



CjQE£RIGHT DEPOSnV 




L 


\ 


> 




I 


ft 


V 




ft 

I 


* 






; 


. — f# ' • . 

' ■- 


> 



I 


\ 


t . 

*• 

* ' • 

• , 

* 

• - f 

♦ • . . • 

■> . • 

i 

ft 

ft f 

ft 





• • 



> I 




jack turned to grapple with the negro 


St't^ page 3^ 




Fighting on the Congo 

The Story of an American Boy among the Rubber Slaves 


By 

HERBERT STRANG 

Author of 

In Clive’s Command 

The Light Brigade in Spain, Kobo, Brown of Moukden 
Tom Burnaby, etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

WILLIAM RAINEY, R. 1. 



INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Tzn 


Copyright 1906 
The Bobbs-Merrill Company 



November 


CO-JvM 

d 


li:-hARY n^^NGRESS 
Two C-wi'fct -s‘etv«ci 


f.OV 1 :- ’906 




Oooyi 


«^ • / 5 ', / 9 <3 4 

CUSS Q_ AAC. N<3: 

/ 4 > 0 4 > 3 / 

-OPY A. 



Botofi bo U iwa / Rubber is death ! 

Congo Pbotsbb 



"Every boy and youth is, in his mind and sentiments, a Knight 
and essentially a Son of Chivalry. Nature is fine in him . . . 

As long as there have been, or shall be, young men to grow up to 
maturity, and until all youthful life shall be dead, and its source with- 
ered for ever, so long must there have been, and must there con- 
tinue to be, the spirit of noble Chivalry. To understand therefore 
this first, and, as it were, natural Chivalry, we have only to observe 
the features of the youthful age, of which examples surround us." 

EDWARD FITZGERALD. 




SB • .■ •-■■. ■ •• '. • • ••'•\ ' ■ 



». 

V’*.'' • 


• ■ •■ 4 ’ 

• ' *- 




LVf’. 


A 




. i 


» 
r A 


^ . 


/ • 

1 


f. 




^0 


I • 

f . '. • 


>1'.. 


-■* t;;; 

^ • ■ :'. \t • ‘ ■ 

. '>:^; y- 


■ < 


.^V 


r 


'/N ' • . ■ ' 

A’i • 

4 : ^>.> C ••-. 




•.*v i- 

• ^ - ^^ rr*^. •.‘- • T» k * 




•-V-: - 


i 


• ^ V''* - 


V 


• ^ 




< < 

< v 


y:.;yi'M^::‘''' 


■y ■ 
' ♦> . 


« • 




.M . » • 

0 * 


' <»'> % 


.ir 


r' 


* ^ - 5 »- . 

' ' 1 - ‘ • '^ ' ■ 




^'-f’ 






- • ''V" s 

^aT-- • • * V 


r. 



jc 


* 

t-*: 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 


I 

The Coming of the White Man 


1 

II 

“Rubber is Death*' 


9 

III 

Monsieur Elbel . 


22 

IV 

Night Alarms 


32 

V 

The Order of Merit 


44 

VI 

Samba Is Missing 


54 

VII 

Blood Brothers . 


66 

VIII 

Jack in Command 


77 

IX 

Samba Meets the Little Men 


90 

X 

A Trip with a Crocodile 


103 

XI 

Bula Matadi Comes to Ilola 



XII 

Samba Comes Back . 


125 

XIII 

Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother 

140 

XIV 

Lokolobolo's First Fight 


153 

XV 

A Revolt at Ilola 


166 

XVI 

The House on the Water 


179 

XVII 

A Buffalo Hunt . 


194 

XVIII 

Elbel's Barrels . 


207 

XIX 

Breaking the Blockade 


220 

XX 

David and Goliath 


231 

XXI 

A Dash and All Together . 


245 


Continued 


CHAPTER 



PAGE 

XXII 

A Message and a Meeting . 


CA 

00 

XXIII 

Elbel Squares Accounts 


266 

XXIV 

A Sudden Charge 


. 276 

XXV 

A Break for Liberty . 


. 284 

XXVI 

Turning the Tables 


297 

XXVII 

The Return of Lokolobolo . 


310 

XXVIII 

The Chicotte 


326 

XXIX 

Reaping the Whirlwind 


337 

XXX 

Sinews of War . 


351 

XXXI 

Summons and Surrender 


367 

XXXII 

The Dawn of Freedom 


373 

XXXIII 

Conclusion 


380 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING PAGE 

Jack turned to grapple with the negro Frontispiece 

See page 36 

The boy made to thrust at him with his dagger 20 

Samba watched the glassy stare of the hideous reptile 1 10 
The sight of Jack cowed him 134 

Yells and rifle-shots aroused the lethargic garrison 250 
Lifting the body he staggered with it to the entrance 348 




PREFACE 


Nearly a generation has passed since King Leopold 
was intrusted by the Great Powers with the sovereignty 
of the Congo Free State, The conscience of Christendom 
had been shocked by the stories brought back by Stanley 
and other travelers of Arab slave raids on the Uj^^er 
Congo, King Leopold coming forward with the 
strongest assurance of philanthropic motive,, was welcomed 
as the champion of the negro,, who should bring peace and 
the highest blessings of civilization to the vast territory 
thus placed under his sway. For many succeeding years 
it was supposed that this work of deliverance,, of regener- 
ation,, was being prosecuted with all diligence; the power 
of the slave-traders was broken,, towns were built,, roads 
made,, railways opened — none of the outward signs of 
material progress was wanting. 

But of late the civilized world has been horrified to 
find that this imposing structure has been cemented with 
the life-blood of the Congo races; that the material 
improvements to which the administrators of Congo-land 
can point,, have been purchased by an appalling amount 
of suffering inflicted upon the hapless negroes. The 
collection of rubber,, on which the whole fabric of Congo 
finance rests, involves a disregard of liberty,, an indiffer- 
ence to suffering,, a destruction of human life almost 
inconceivable. Those who best know the country estimate 
that the population is annually reduced,, under King Leo- 
pold^ s rule,, by at least a hundred thousand. No great 
war,, no famine,, no pestilence in the world* s history has 
been so merciless a scourge as civilization in Congo-land, 
Yet,, owing to mutual jealousies, the Powers are slow to 
take action, and while they hesitate to intervene, the ne- 
groes are perishing by the thousands. 


It has been my aim in this book to show^ within neces- 
sary limitations^ what the effect of the white man’s rule 
has been. If any reader should be tempted to hope that 
the picture here drawn is overcolored^ I would commend 
him to the publications issued by Mr. E. D. Morel and 
his co-workers of the Congo Reform Association.^ with 
every confidence that the cause of the Congo native would 
thereby have gained a new adherent. 

I must express my very great thanks to the Reverend 
f. H. Harris and Mrs. H arris y who have spent several 
years on the Upper Congo., for their kindness in reading 
the 7nanuscript and revising the proofs of this book, and 
for many most helpful suggestions and criticisms. 

HERBERT STRANG. 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 



FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


CHAPTER I 

THE COMING OF THE WHITE MAN 

Samba lay face downwards on the yellow sand, amid 
which his body shone in the sunlight like polished ebony. 
Behind, the rising bank was thick with trees and shrubs 
ablaze with color, overspread with the delicate tracery 
of liana and creeping plants. Here was a spot of red, 
there a dash of orange; at intervals the pale yellow 
flowers of climbing gourds and the mauve blossoms of 
convolvuli peeped from the wall of vivid green. Tiny 
rills made music as they trickled through the foliage; 
and near at hand was a path trodden by herds of ante- 
lope as they came to drink. 

Before, rolled the brown waters of a broad river, rip- 
pling over whitened snags in the bed, or over the gnarled 
limbs of fallen trees. Here, on a sandy islet, flashed 
the scarlet and blue of little kingfishers, contrasting with 
the sober gray of the bittern, or the black and white of 
the vulture. A giant heron perched on a low overhang- 
ing branch, gazing solemnly at the ibis standing solitary 
by a distant bush. 

I 




FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


On a smooth spot at Samba’s right sported innumer- 
able butterflies, blue and green and crimson, and bees 
and dragonflies lazily basked in the heat. Samba had 
but to stretch out his hand to make prisoners of what 
he chose. But Samba’s attention was already occupied. 
Looking over the brink into the placid water, his eye 
was caught by a small, round, soft object lying motion- 
less on the surface. A tiny crocodile only a few inches 
long darted from underneath the leaf of a water-lily, in 
pursuit of a tinier fish. The round object suddenly 
contracted: there was a ripple on the water, — and the 
baby crocodile found itself in the grasp of a droll little 
proboscis that shot out and dragged its hapless prey 
down. Samba smiled: he knew that just below the sur- 
face lay a trionyx, the owner of that little nostriled 
proboscis. He wasted no sympathy on the baby croco- 
dile, which would never grow big to snap up little negro 
boys at the waterside. 

There was silence all around, save for the hum of 
insects and the gentle lapping of the water on the sand. 
Then a slight sound caught Samba’s ear, and, turning, 
he saw a handsome young lizard, pied with yellow and 
greenish black, flashing along in chase of a fat frog 
which it had marked for its own. A swish of its flexible 
tail, a snap of its savage teeth, and Ranunculus disap- 
peared — a choice morsel for breakfast. 

Such scenes as these gave Samba constant amusement. 
He would often wander alone from his village, as he 
had done to-day, carrying his little broad-bladed dagger, 
in case a snake should cross his path, and spend hours in 
the forest by the river-bank, listening to the chatter 
of the monkeys and the screams of the parrots, watching 
the little stingless bees at their work, mocking the hollow 
note of the drumbird or the wild pigeon’s doleful call, 
studying the busy doings of the multitudinous ants. 


2 


THE COMING OF THE WHITE MAN 


There was not a bird or- beast or insect within range 
of his village with whose ways Samba was not familiar. 

The trionyx steered himself down stream; the lizard 
swishing his pliant tail, went off in search of other prey ; 
and Samba’s bright eyes followed the mazy movements 
of the myriad flies sporting on the surface of the sun- 
lit water, and the shining flsh darting this way and that 
in the clear depths. Suddenly a scream of the fishing 
eagle caused him to look up. Then a shout made him 
spring to his feet and look wonderingly in the direction 
of the sound. He knew no fear. His lithe, dusky body, 
bare save for a scrap of cloth about his loins and a string 
of cowries around his neck, stood erect and alert; his 
keen, intelligent eyes expressed nothing but surprise 
and curiosity. Again came the hail. 

‘Wonkoen 

''Em' one called Samba in reply. 

A boat was being slowly paddled up the stream; ten 
stalwart Baenga stood at the paddles, bending forward 
as they made their strokes. Two other negroes squatted 
in the fore part of the boat. Amidships sat another figure, 
the sight of which gave Samba a delightful thrill of ex- 
pectation. It was a white man, clad all in white, with 
fair hair and beard. Could this be Bula Matadi, Samba 
wondered, the white man whom his grandfather, the 
chief Mirambo, had seen long ago at Wanganga? He 
waited, standing still as a rock. The boat drew nearer, 
a few more strokes of the paddles and it came under 
the bank. The white man leaped ashore, followed by the 
two men who had been seated. They were big, fierce- 
looking fellows. Each carried a long, strangely-shaped 
stick with a hollow tube ; about their waists dangled bags 
of skin. The white man stepped up to Samba, smiled 


1 “Are you there ?” ^ “I am here,” 

3 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


upon him, patted his woolly head. Then one of the ne- 
groes began to question him. Where was his village? 
What was it called? Who was its chief? How many 
huts did it contain? Was there much forest about it? 
To these questions Samba replied frankly; surely it was 
a great honor to his grandfather that the white man 
should take such interest in him ! Then came a question 
that somewhat amused him. Did the forest contain 
hotofef^ He smiled. Of course it did. Were not the 
drumsticks in his village made of botofef What a 
strange question to ask of a forest boy ! The white man 
smiled in return, and said something in a strange tongue 
to the negro who had spoken. 

‘‘Take us to your village,” said the man, and, nothing 
loath. Samba set off like a young deer, the three men fol- 
lowing him. 

Samba was eleven years old. His home was the vil- 
lage of Banonga, a street of bamboo huts thatched with 
palm leaves and shadowed by the broad foliage of ba- 
nanas and plantains and tall forest trees. His grand- 
father Mirambo was the village chief, a tall, strong, wise 
old man, a great fighter in his day, his body scarred with 
wounds, his memory stored with the things he had seen 
and done. Samba’s father, Mboyo (or Isekasamba, 
“father of Samba,” as he was called after his boy was 
born), was the old chief’s favorite son, a daring hunter, 
a skilful fisher, and the most silent man of his tribe. He 
had several wives, but Samba’s mother was the best 
loved of them all, and wore about her ankles the brass 
rings that betokened her supreme place in her husband’s 
affections. Grandfather, father, mother, all doted on 
Samba, and for eleven years he had lived a happy, merry 
life, the pet of the village. 


1 Rubber. 


4 


THE COMING OF THE WHITE MAN 


Nothing had troubled the peace of the little community. 
Banonga was a secluded village, on the outskirts of 
dense forests, not far from one of the innumerable tribu- 
taries of the great river Congo. Life passed easily and 
pleasantly for these children of nature. In the morning, 
ere the sun was up, the men would spring from their 
simple bamboo beds, fling their hunting-nets or fishing- 
baskets on their shoulders, hang about their necks the 
charms that would preserve them from accident and 
insure success in the work of the day, and repair to the 
old chief, who, sitting in his forked chair in the middle 
of the street, gave them the bokaku — the blessing with- 
out which they never left the village. ‘‘May you be pre- 
served from accident,’’ he would say; “from wild beasts, 
from snags in the path and snakes in the grass, and 
return with great plenty.” Then they would shout their 
farewells, and hasten with light-hearted laughter into 
the forest or down to the river. 

Meanwhile the women had been long astir. Some, a 
babe on one arm, a calabash on the other, went singing 
to a forest stream, to bathe their children and fill their 
vessels with water for the day’s cooking. Others, with 
baskets slung upon their backs and rude implements 
upon their shoulders, sped to the gardens and cultivated 
fields to perform their simple operations of husbandry, 
and to return by and by with manioc, plantains, ground- 
nuts, which they would prepare against their husbands’ 
return. The morning’s work done, they would dress 
their hair carefully, even fastidiously; kindle the fires 
of three converging logs ; and set upon them well-heaped 
pots of manioc, covered with leaves of plantain or non- 
goti to prevent the escape of steam. Some would prattle 
or sing lullabies to their babes, others form little knots 
and gossip, laughing and jesting without a thought of 
care. 


5 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


All day the village was cheered by the merry antics 
and joyous shouts of the children at play. Like chil- 
dren all over the world, the boys and girls of the Congo 
delight in mimicking their elders. The boys made little 
hunting-nets and ran hither and thither in mock chase, 
or spread their fishing-nets in the stream and gleefully 
boasted of their tiny catches. The girls wove little bas- 
kets, and played with beads and shells. One and all, 
the children of Banonga were deft with their fingers, but 
none was so deft as Samba. He was always busy, shap- 
ing now a mortar for his mother, now a chair for his 
grandfather, now a wicker basket so close in texture 
that he could bring in it water from the stream without 
spilling a drop. 

Most of all Samba loved to squat by his grandfather’s 
chair late in the afternoon, when the old chief sat alone, 
chin on hand, waiting for the return of the men. Then, 
and on dark nights, Mirambo would recite, in his deep 
musical voice, interminable stories and legends, of the 
spirits that haunted the woods, of the animals he had 
hunted and slain, of narrow escapes from the greedy 
jaws of crocodiles, or fierce fights with cannibals, of ad- 
venturous journeys by field and flood. Samba never 
tired of one story : how, years before, Mirambo had made 
a long journey to Wanganga, far, very far away, and 
had there seen a white man, who wore cloth all over his 
body, and had come up the river on a wonderful smoke 
boat, driven by a fiery, snorting devil that devoured in- 
satiably great logs of wood. Bula Matadi, ‘"breaker of 
rocks,” this wonderful white man was called, but Mi^ 
rambo had heard that in his own country he was called 
Tanalay.^ Samba would listen with all his ears to his 
grandfather’s long narratives, inwardly resolving that he, 


Henry M. Stanley. 


6 


THE COMING OF THE WHITE MAN 


too, when he became a man, would take long journeys 
and see marvelous things — white men, and smoke-boats, 
and all. 

Then, as the sun drew toward its setting, out of the 
forest would come faint strains of song. Mirambo’s 
monotone would cease; he would sit erect expectant; 
the women would run out of the huts, above which the 
wreathing smoke proclaimed preparations for the even- 
ing meal ; the children would gather in a laughing, chat- 
tering flock at the end of the street. The sound of sing- 
ing would draw nearer ; at length it would stop abruptly, 
but instantly would be followed by a loud, prolonged 
shout; only Lianza’s brazen throat could utter such a 
sonorous cry: ”I-yo-li-o! I-yo-li-o-o !” And the long- 
drawn hail of Lianza would be broken in upon by the 
roar of his companions. ‘Wo!” eighty men would shout 
as one. And out of the forest would spring the dusky 
band, laden with their spoils, which with an exultant 
shout they would set down before the chief, amid cries 
and hand-clapping and slapping of the thighs by the 
women and children welcoming their return. The flesh 
would be cut up, the fish divided, the women would 
return to their huts to cook the supper, while the chil- 
dren clung about their fathers^ legs and recounted the 
little adventures of the day. The meal eaten, the whole 
population would form a wide circle in the street, and, 
squatting on the ground, would give themselves up to 
the joy of watching the gyrations of the dancing women, 
who, in their aprons of long grass, decorated v/ith tink- 
ling bells, whirled around to the barbaric music of drums 
and castanets, as the day darkened and the moon threw 
her silvery beams upon the scene. 

Such were the daily scenes amid which Samba passed 
his happy boyhood, in the village of Banonga, whither 
he was now leading the white stranger. 

7 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


The village came in sight, nestling in a glade. The 
laughing children ceased their play, and stood finger in 
mouth looking shyly at the strangers. The women, 
busily grinding manioc with pestle and mortar in the 
open, looked up with startled glance and fled into their 
huts, where they stood peeping from behind the posts 
of palm. Mirambo, the chief, rose from his seat and 
awaited with dignity the approach of the white man. 
Ceremonious greetings were exchanged. Then ensued 
a long conversation, the white man speaking, his negroes 
translating to the chief. He listened intently, and replied 
in brief phrases, most often contenting himself with 
exclamations of assent — “IndeT '^Ng'oko!” or of dis- 
sent — "Lako!” “0 nye!” 

Botofe! Yes, he knew where botofe could be found. 
And the white man, the Son of Heaven, wanted botofe; 
it had some value for him. Well, he should have it. 
Who so hospitable as the men of Banonga? They were 
not as the men of Kinshassa, who met the white man with 
cries of anger, and spears, and knives. Had not he, 
Mirambo, seen Bula Matadi, the friend of the black man? 
*‘When my sons return from their hunting,^ said Mi- 
rambo, ‘'they shall provide the stranger with all that he 
needs. They shall give him plantains, and fowls, and 
cakes of kwanga they shall make ready a hut for him ; 
and botofe — ^yes, if he needs botofe, my young men shall 
go into the forest and fill their baskets with botofe for 
him. No one shall say but that the white man is wel- 
come in Banonga.’^ 


preparation of manioc. 


8 


CHAPTER II 


"rubber is death"^ 

"Whew! This is a warm country. Jack. There’ll 
soon be nothing left of us.” 

“There’s plenty at present, Uncle,” replied Jack Chal- 
loner with a smile. “Barney can spare less, after all.” 

“Sure an’ that’s the truth’s truth, sorr. ’Twas the 
sorrow uv me mother’s heart that I ran to length instid 
uv breadth. Whin I was a bhoy she had to buy breeches 
always a size too long for me, and me bones grew so 
fast they almost made holes in me skin — they did.” 

“Confound it, man, that’s where you score. The mos- 
quitoes leave you alone: can’t find enough juice in you 
to make it worth their while to worry you. Whereas 
they suck at me till I’m all ulcers. Hi! Nando, when 
shall we get to this Banonga we’ve heard so much 
about?” 

“Berrah soon, sah. Paddle small, small, sah, den 
Banonga.” 

Mr. Martindale mopped his brow and drew his white 
umbrella closer down upon his head. He was lying 
under a grass shelter amidships of a dugout, with his 
nephew Jack at his side and his man Barney O’Dowd 
at his feet. The clumsy native craft rocked to and fro 
under the paddles of twelve stalwart Baenga, who stood, 
their bodies bent slightly forward, singing in time with 
their strokes. They were paddling against the current 
of a stream that forced its brown waters into one of the 
tributaries of the Congo. It was a broiling day. A 

9 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


rain storm in the night had cleared the sky of the haze 
that commonly covered it, and the sun beat down out of 
a dome of fleckless blue, irradiating the crimsons and 
purples, the golds and whites of the rich vegetation on 
the banks. 

“I tell you. Jack,*’ continued Mr. Martindale, *T shall 
grumble if this talk of Banonga turns out to be wind. 
I don’t see what the Congo State has to gain by extermi- 
nating the natives ; and we know what liars these blacks 
can be.” 

“Suppose the talk of gold turns out to be wind, 
Uncle?” 

“Eh? What’s that? Wind! Rubbish! The differ- 
ence is that we hear of Banonga from the blacks; but 
’twas Barnard told me of the gold, and Barnard hasn’t 
got enough imagination to say more than he knows. 
No, the gold is safe enough; and I tell you I shall be 
glad when we get through this Banonga and can pro- 
ceed to business.” 

John Martindale was a florid, well-preserved man of 
fifty-five years. Born in New York, he had early gone 
West, rapidly made his pile in California, and retired 
from the direction of his mines. But meeting one day 
in San Francisco an old friend of his, a queer stick of a 
fellow named Barnard, who spent his life in roaming 
over the world and making discoveries that laid the 
foundation of other men’s fortunes, not his own, he 
learned from him that clear signs of gold had been ob- 
served in the Maranga district on the Upper Congo. 
Mr. Martindale was very rich; but, like many another 
man, he found after his retirement that time hung some- 
what heavy on his hands. He was still full of energy, 
and Barnard’s story of gold in a new country stirred 
the imagination of the old miner. He decided to take 
a trip to Africa and test his friend’s information. As a 


10 


“RUBBER IS DEATH^^ 


matter of course he gave Barnard an invitation to accom- 
pany him. 

“No, no, John,’’ replied his friend. “I scratched the 
soil; I know gold is there; I’ve no further interest in 
the stuff. I’m off to the Philippines next week. Go and 
dig, old fellow, and take plenty of quinine with you.” 

It happened that Mr. Martindale’s only nephew. Jack 
Challoner, a lad of seventeen, was just home from school. 
He was an orphan. His mother, Mr. Martindale’s sister, 
had married an English barrister of great ability who had 
already made a name at the Parliamentary Bar. But 
he died when his boy was only six years old; two years 
later his wife followed him to the grave, and the guard- 
ianship of Jack fell to his uncle, who, being a bachelor 
without other ties, readily assumed the charge. He sur- 
prised his friends by the course he took with the boy. 
Instead of bringing him to America, he entered him 
at Bilton and afterwards at Rugby, declaring that as the 
boy was English it was only fair he should receive an 
English education. “I read Tom Brown years ago,” 
he would say, “and if they turn ’em out now as they did 
then — well, we can’t do better this side of the herring 
pond.” Jack spent his holidays either in America, or in 
traveling about Europe with his uncle, and the two be- 
came great chums. 

But when Jack reached his seventeenth birthday Mr. 
Martindale again surprised his friends. “Send him to 
Oxford?” he said. “Not much! He has had nearly four 
years at Rugby, he’s in the fifth form, and I guess he’s 
enough book learning to serve his turn. He’s tiptop at 
sports : he’s a notion of holding his own and helping 
lame dogs; and I don’t want his nose to turn up, as I 
believe noses have a trick of doing at Oxford. No; 
the boy’ll come home. I don’t know what he’s to be, 
but I’ll soon find out what he’s fit for, and then we’ll 


II 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


have to work at it. The least I could do for his father’s 
sake was to give him an English education; he’ll come 
back to America for a smartening up.” 

It was not long after Jack’s return that Mr. Martin- 
dale met his friend Barnard. Since Barnard would not 
be his companion, Jack should. “It will do you no harm 
to see a little travel off the beaten track,” he said, “and 
I’m not going to work the gold myself ; my mining days 
are done. You may tumble to it; in that case you’ll 
stay in Africa and take care not to waste my capital. 
You may not: that’ll be one thing settled, anyway.” 

Accordingly, when Mr. Martindale sailed for Europe, 
he took Jack with him. With characteristic energy he 
very quickly settled the preliminaries. He obtained for 
a comparatively small sum from a Belgian trading com- 
pany, the holders of a large concession on the Upper 
Congo, the mining rights in the Maranga district, on 
condition of the company’s receiving a percentage of the 
profits. The first practical step having been taken, Mr. 
Martindale’s interest in his project became keen. He 
had never traveled out of Europe; there was a certain 
glamour about an adventure in the heart of Africa; and 
he was rich enough to indulge his humor, even if the 
results of Barnard’s discovery should prove disap- 
pointing. 

Uncle and nephew sailed for Africa, spent a few days 
at Boma, traveled on the cataract railway from Katadi 
to Leopoldville, and thence for nearly three weeks up 
the Congo. Then, leaving the main river, they embarked 
on a smaller steamer, plying on a tributary stream. In 
about a week they arrived at a head “port,” whence they 
continued their journey up a tributary of a tributary, 
by canoe. This last stream was a fairly large river as 
rivers are understood in Europe, though neither so broad 
nor so deep as the one they had just left. But this again 


12 


^^RUBBER IS DEATH’^ 


was insignificant by comparison with the mighty Congo 
itself, fed by a thousand tributaries in its course of sev- 
eral thousand miles. Mr. Martindale became more and 
more impressed as the journey lengthened, and at last 
burst out: 

“Well, now, this licks even the Mississippi!” 

But not the Shannon! Barney O’Dowd was a true 
Irishman. Mr. Martindale had engaged him in London 
as handy man to the expedition. Barney had been in the 
army; he had been a gentleman’s servant, ward-room 
attendant at a hospital, drill-sergeant at a boys’ school, 
’bus conductor, cabman, and chauffeur; but in none of 
these numerous vocations, he said with a sigh, had he 
ever grown fat. He was long, lean, strong as a horse; 
with honest merry blue eyes, and curly lips that seemed 
made for smiling. He drove the travelers in a hansom 
during the week they stayed in London, and looked so 
sorrowful when Mr. Martindale announced his departure 
that the American, on the spur of the moment, with bluff 
impulsiveness, invited him to join the expedition. 

“Sure an’ ’tis me last chance, sorr,” cried Barney, 
cheerfully consenting. “A sea voyage does wonders for 
some. There was Terence O’Bally, now, as thin as a 
lath in the ould country; he went to Australia, and, by 
the powers ! when he came back to say *God bless you’ to 
his ould mother, she did not know ’m at all, at all, he 
was so full in the flesh, sorr. Sure an’ I’ll come wid ye 
wid the greatest pleasure in the world, and plase the 
pigs, I’ll fatten like Terence. Only wan thing, sorr; ye 
would not have any inshuperable objection to Pat, sorr?” 

“Who on earth’s Pat?” 

“Just a dog, sorr; a little darlint uv a terrier no fatter 
than me, sorr; as kind an’ gentle as wan of the blessed 
angels. He has a poor appetite, sorr, an’ sleeps on my 
coat, so he will not cost ye much for board and lodging. 

13 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


And I would thank ye kindly, sorr, if I might but go 
home to ’m an’ say, Tat, me darlint, times is changed. 
We are in luck, Pat. There’s a nice, kind, fat, jolly 
American gentleman that takes very kindly to dogs and 
Irishmen, an’ — ’ ” 

'There, then, that’ll do,” said Mr. Martindale, laugh- 
ing. "Bring Pat, if you like. But he’ll have to go if he 
proves a nuisance.” 

And so Pat became a member of the party. And he 
lay curled up now in the bottom of the canoe, and cocked 
an eye as Barney declared with emphasis that the Congo 
was a "mighty foine river, sure an’ ’tis only fair to say 
so; but, by all the holy powers, ’tis not to be compared 
wid the Shannon, blessed be its name !” 

It was Pat that sprang first ashore when the paddlers 
with a resounding "Yo!” drove the canoe alongside a 
turfy platform by the bank, worn level by the treading 
of innumerable feet. The dog uttered one sharp bark, 
faced round to the river, and stood with ears pricked and 
stumpy tail wagging, to watch his master step to land. 

"Now, Nando,” said Mr. Martindale, when all were 
ashore, "lead the way. Not too fast, and not too near 
skeeters or jiggers.” 

"Berrah well, sah; me go fust, frighten skeeters all 
away.” 

Leaving ten of the crew in the canoe, the rest of the 
party set off under Nando’s guidance. He led them 
through the mass of tall grass that lined the river-bank, 
across a swampy stretch of heath, where a narrow path 
wound in and out among trees large and small, beset 
by dense undergrowth and climbing plants. Insects 
innumerable flitted and buzzed around the travelers, pro- 
voking lively exclamations from Mr. Martindale and 
Jack, and many a vicious snap from the terrier, but leav- 
ing Barney almost untouched. Once a wild pig dashed 
14 


“RUBBER IS DEATH” 


across the path and plunged into the thicket, with Pat 
barking frantically at its heels. Here and there Mr. 
Martindale caught sight of red-legged partridge and 
quail, and sighed for his rifle. Parrots squawked over- 
head; once from the far distance, muffled by the foliage, 
came the trumpet of an elephant; but signs of humanity 
there was none, save the meandering track. 

At length, however, they came to a clear, open space 
amid the trees, where, on a low hill, stood a crude, open 
hut, consisting of upright supports surmounted by a roof 
of bamboo and leaves, and partly walled by cloth. 

“Berrah nice place, sah,” said Nando cheerfully. 
“Chief him missis buried dah.” 

The travelers approached with curiosity. Inside the 
shed they saw a small image, roughly carved in semblance 
of a human figure, set upright in the ground. At one 
side lay two or three wicker baskets, at the other a 
bottle; in front a big iron spoon stuck out of the 
soil, and all around were strewed hundreds of small 
beads. Nando explained that these had been the prop- 
erty of the deceased lady. , 

“And is she buried under them?” asked Mr. Martin- 
dale, stepping back a pace. 

“Bit of her, sah.” 

“What do you mean — a bit of her?” 

“All dey find, sah. Bula Matadi come, make big bob- 
bery ; bang ! chief him missis lib for dead, sah. Bad man 
cut up, put in pot, only little bit left, sah.” 

Mr. Martindale shivered, then waxed indignant. 

“I don’t believe it,” he declared stoutly. “Such things 
aren’t done in these days. There are no cannibals in these 
days — eh, Jack?” 

“I hope not. Uncle. But are we near Banonga, Nando?” 

“Small, small, sah, den Banonga.” 

15 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 

“Lead on, then,” cried Mr. Martindale. “I want to 
see with my own eyes whether those fellows were telling 
the truth.” 

Some distance down the river, just after camping for 
the night, Mr. Martindale’s rest had been disturbed by 
a loud and excited conversation between his own party 
and a group of new-comers who had halted to exchange 
greetings. Inquiring the cause of the commotion, he 
learned that the men had brought news of a terrible mas- 
sacre that had taken place at Banonga, a village in the 
forest many miles up the stream. The villagers had been 
remiss in their collection of rubber; the agents of Bula 
Matadi (which, originally the native name for Sir Henry 
M. Stanley, had become the name for the Congo Free 
State) had appeared at the village with a force of native 
soldiers, and, according to the informant, who had re- 
ceived the news from an up-country man, the whole pop- 
ulation had been annihilated. Mr. Martindale had heard, 
in America and England, as well as in Africa, that the 
administration of the Congo State officials was somewhat 
oppressive; but, like many others, he had been inclined 
to pooh-pooh the rumors of cruelty and atrocity as the 
vaporings of sentimentalists. But the stories imperfectly 
interpreted by Nando on that pleasant evening by the 
river made a new impression on him. He was a hard- 
headed man of business, as little inclined to sentimentality 
as any man could be ; he hated any appeal to the emotions 
and, unasked, gave large subscriptions to hospitals and 
philanthropic societies so as to avoid the harrowing of 
his feelings by collectors and other importunate folk; 
but beneath his rough husk lay a very warm heart, as 
none knew better than his nephew Jack; and the stories 
of cruelties told by the lips of these natives made him 
feel very uncomfortable. At a distance he could shut 
his eyes to things, open his purse to deserving objects 

i6 


“RUBBER IS DEATH” 

/xjucJtiJ^JLyx. qAjl . 


and believe that his duty was done : but here, on the spot, 
this easy course was not possible. He did not like dis- 
comfort, bodily or mental; it annoyed him when any 
external cause ruffled the serenity of his life, and he 
made up his mind to pay a visit to Banonga on his way 
up the river, test the negroes’ story, and prove to his own 
satisfaction, as he believed he would do, that it was ex- 
aggerated, if not untrue. That done, he would dismiss 
the matter from his thoughts, and proceed to the proper 
business of his journey without anything to disturb his 
peace of mind. 

The party left the grave on the hill and followed the 
same path through another stretch of forest until they 
came, almost unawares, upon a large clearing. 

“Banonga, massa,” said Nando, stretching out his 
hand, and looking into . Mr. Martindale’s eyes with a 
glance as of some frightened animal. 

“Banonga ! but where are the huts ?” said Mr. Martin- 
dale. 

No one answered him. The party of five stood at the 
edge of the clearing, looking straight before them. Pat 
the terrier trotted around, wagging his stump, and blink- 
ing up into their faces as if to ask a question. What did 
they see? A long broad track, leading between palms 
and plantains away into the impenetrable forest. These 
leafy walls were vivid green, but the road itself was 
black. A smell of charred wood and burnt vegetation 
filled the air. There was not a complete hut to be seen. 
The space once thronged with a joyous, chattering crowd 
was now empty, save for ashes, half-burnt logs, shattered 
utensils. Here and there a bird hopped and pecked, flying 
up into the trees with shrill scream as Pat sprang bark- 
ing towards it. But for these sounds, the silence was as 
of death. 

“Come,” said Mr. Martindale, stepping forward. It 
17 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


was he who led the way now as the party left the ring of 
forest and walked into the clearing. Barney, coming 
behind with Nando, groaned aloud. 

“Stop that noise!” cried Mr. Martindale, swinging 
round irritably; “what’s the matter with you, man?” 

“Sorrow a bit the matter wid me, sorr; but it just 
brought into me mimory a sight I saw in the ould coun- 
thry whin I was a bhoy; sure there was nothing to see. 
there either, and that’s the pity uv it.” 

Mr. Martindale went on without speaking, poking 
with his stick into the black dust of the road. Nando 
went to his side, and pointed out such traces of former 
habitations as remained, here a cooking-pot, there a half- 
consumed wicker basket, a broken knife, a blackened 
bead necklace. 

“Whoever did this, did it thoroughly,” remarked Mr. 
Martindale. “But who did it? I won’t believe it was 
Europeans till ’tis proved. There are cannibals here; 
Nando said so: a cannibal tribe may have raided the 
place. Eh? But where are the people?” 

In the thick undergrowth, beyond the desolated village, 
crouched a negro boy. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes 
unnaturally bright. His left arm hung limp and nerve- 
less; in his right hand he clutched a broad-pointed dag- 
ger. He had been lying in a stupor until aroused by a 
sharp sound, the cry of some animal strange to him. 
Then he raised himself slowly and with difficulty to his 
knees, and peered cautiously, apprehensively, through the 
foliage amid which he was ensconced. 

He glared and shrank back when he saw that among 
the strangers moving about were two white men. But 
what was this animal they had brought with them? he 
wondered. Goats he knew, and pigs, and the wild ani- 
mals of the forest ; he knew the native dog, with its foxy 
head, smooth, yellowish coat, and bushy tail; but this 

i8 


“RUBBER IS DEATH” 


creature was new to him. True, it was like a dog, 
though its brown coat was rough and its tail stumpy; 
but he had never seen the dogs of his village trot round 
their masters as this one was doing, never heard them 
speaking, as it seemed, to the men with this quick, sharp 
cry. The dogs he had known never barked; their only 
utterance was a long howl, when they were hungry or in 
pain. He hated white men, but loved all animals; and, 
weak as he was, he raised himself once more, and bent 
forward to look at this active, dog-like creature that came 
and went in apparent joyousness. 

A bird flew down from a tree, and alighted hardily 
within a couple of yards of the terrier. This was too 
much for Pat. He darted at the audacious bird, pur- 
sued it into the thicket, then came to a sudden surprised 
stop when he descried a black form among the leaves. 
He stood contemplating the boy with his honest brown 
eyes, and his docked tail was very active. Then with one 
short bark he trotted back to his master, and looked up 
to him as if to say : “I have made a discovery ; come and 
see.” But man’s intelligence is very limited. Barney 
did not understand. 

“And did the creatuP give ye the slip, thin?” he said, 
patting the dog’s head. 

“That’s not the point,” said Pat’s barks. “I want you 
to come and see what I have found,” and he ran off again 
towards the thicket, turning once or twice to see if his 
master was following. But Barney paid little atten- 
tion to him, and Pat, giving him up as hopeless, went on 
alone to scrape acquaintance. He stood before the boy 
at a distance of a yard, blinking at him between the ten- 
drils of a creeper. Then he advanced slowly, wagging 
his stump, poked his nose through the leaves, and, after 
a moment’s sniffing deliberation, put out his tongue and 
licked the black knee he found there. The boy made with 

19 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


his closed lips the humming sound with which the negro 
of the Congo expresses pleasure, and next minute the 
dog’s paws were in his hands and the two, dog and boy, 
were friends. 

But whoever was a friend of Pat’s must also be a 
friend of Barney O’Dowd. It was not long before Pat 
awoke to a sense of his duty. He tried with the negro 
the plan that had just failed with his master. He re- 
treated a little way, cocked his head round and barked, 
and waited for the boy to follow. The latter understood 
at once ; but he shook his head, saying, '‘O nye ! O nye r 
Pat began to see that there was something keeping the 
white man and the black boy apart. It was very foolish, 
he thought; they were both such good fellows: it was 
quite clear that they ought to be friends, but what was a 
dog to do ? He trotted slowly back to Barney, and began 
to speak to him seriously, with a bark of very different 
intonation from that he had previously employed. 

“Well, and what is it wid ye, thin?” said Barney. 

“He has caught the bird, I expect,” said Jack, amused 
at the dog’s manner, “and wants you to go and see it.” 

“Sure thin I will,” said Barney, “and mutton being 
scarce, we will have a new kind uv Irish stew, Pat, me 
bhoy. But why did ye not bring it, ye varmint?” 

He made to follow the dog, whose stump was now 
beating the air with frantic delight. But he had no sooner 
reached the edge of the plantation than there was a rus- 
tle among the leaves: the boy was leaving his hiding- 
place and trying to crawl away into the forest. 

“Begorrah !” quoth Barney, “ ’tis a living cratur’, and 
a bhoy, black as the peat on my father’s bog, and not 
knowing a word uv Irish, to be sure.” 

Pat was rubbing his nose on the boy’s flank, wonder- 
ing why he had taken to going on all fours. But the ne- 
gro did not crawl far. Faint with weakness, moaning 


20 



The boy made to thrust at him with his dagger Page 21 




RUBBER IS DEATH 


with pain, he sank to the ground. Pat gave one bark 
of sympathy and stood watching him. Meanwhile Jack 
had come up. 

‘‘A boy, did you say, Barney ? What is he doing here 

‘^Sure I would like to know that same, sorr, but niver 
a word of his spache did I learn. Perhaps he has niver 
seen a white man, not to say an Irishman, before, and 
thinks 'tis a ghost.’^ 

^‘Nando, come here!’^ called Jack. 

The paddler hurried up, followed quickly by Mr. 
Martindale. 

“What’s this? What’s this? a boy! They’re not all 
killed, then.” 

“I think he’s hurt. Uncle, and scared. He tried to 
crawl away from us, but seemed too weak.” 

“Well, lift him up, Barney; we’ll see.” 

Barney approached, but the instant he stretched forth 
his hands the boy uttered a piercing shriek, and made 
to thrust at him with his dagger. 

“Come, this will never do,” said Mr. Martindale. 
“Speak to him, Nando; tell him we are friends and will 
do him no harm.” 

Nando went up to the boy, and Pat stood by, wagging 
his tail, and looking inquiringly from one to the other 
as the negro talked in his rapid staccato. A few minutes 
passed; then Nando turned round and with a beaming 
smile said: 

“He understan’ all same now, sah. I say massa Ing- 
lesa ginleman, blood brudder Tanalay, oh, yes. He know 
about Tanalay: he no ’fraid dis time; he come along, 
along. He Samba, sah.” 


21 


CHAPTER III 


MONSIEUR ELBEL 

Samba made no resistance when Nando lifted him 
and carried him to the center of the clearing. He moaned 
once or twice as the Baenga pressed his wounded arm, 
and almost fainted when he was laid on the ground be- 
fore Mr. Martindale. But a sip from the traveler’s 
flask revived him, and he smiled. 

‘That’s better,” said Mr. Martindale. “Poor boy! 
He looks half-starved. Have you any food about you, 
Nando?” 

“No, sah. Get some one time.” ^ 

He went off into the thicket, and soon returned with 
a couple of scorched bananas. These Samba devoured 
ravenously. 

“Now, I wonder if he could tell us all about it?” said 
Mr. Martindale. “Ask him, Nando.” 

Samba told his story. His dialect was different from 
Nando’s, but there is a freemasonry of speech among 
the tribes of the Congo, and Nando understood. It was 
not so easy for the others to get at the meaning of 
Nando’s strange jargon as he interpreted, but they list- 
ened patiently, and missed little of the narrative. Mr. 
Martindale sat on an upturned pot. Jack and Barney on 
charred logs. Nando squatted beside Samba on the 
ground, and Pat thrust his muzzle contentedly between 
the boy’s knees and seemed to sleep. 


1 Immediately. 


22 


MONSIEUR ELBEL 


One night, when the moon was at the full, a messen- 
ger came into Banonga village. The time was at hand 
when the agent of Bula Matadi would attend to collect 
the tax — the weight of rubber exacted by the Congo 
State from every able-bodied man. The messenger re- 
minded the chief that Banonga had several times been 
in default. Only a few men had hitherto been punished, 
only a few women had been carried away as hostages 
for the diligence of their husbands. But the patience of 
Bula Matadi was exhausted. If on this occasion the due 
measure of rubber was not forthcoming, the anger of 
Bula Matadi would blaze, the soldiers would come, and 
the men of Banonga would have cause to rue their idle- 
ness. 

The chief listened in silence. He was old; his body 
was bowed, his spirit broken. His men were away hunt- 
ing for rubber, but he knew that, were they doubled in 
number, they could not gather the quantity required. 
The vines in their district were exhausted; the men had 
not been taught how to tap them ; they destroyed as they 
went, and now the whole district around Banonga would 
not yield half of what was demanded of them. When the 
messenger spoke of the leniency of Bula Matadi, the 
chief might have reminded him of the outrages the people 
had suffered; of the rapacity, the ruthless brutalities 
of the forest guards. But he said no word of provoca- 
tion; only, when the men had gone. Samba heard him 
mutter the terrible sentence, now too often on hs lips: 
*‘Botofe ho le iwa: Rubber is death 

The day came, the agent of Bula Matadi appeared, 
with an armed escort. The men of Banonga had not 
returned. They came dragging in by ones and twos and 
threes, worn out with their long quests. The rubber was 
weighed; in many cases it was short: excuses were re- 
jected, entreaties scoffed at. The hapless victims suffered 

23 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


taunts, abuses, the terrible whip. One, less enduring than 
the rest, resisted. It was the signal. A dozen rifles 
were raised; a dozen shots rang out; strong forms lay 
writhing in the agony of death. A brief, sharp struggle ; 
another fusillade ; and the terrified survivors, men, 
women and children, fled helter-skelter to the forest, pur- 
sued by the shots of the soldiery, ruthless of age or sex. 
A raid was made upon their deserted huts: everything 
that had value for the native levies was seized, then the 
match was applied, and soon what had once been a pros- 
perous, happy village was a heap of smoldering ruins. 

Samba saw it all. He remained dauntless by his grand- 
father’s side until a bullet put an end to the old chief’s 
life; then he too had fled into the forest, to find his 
father and mother, his brothers and sisters. But he had 
delayed too long: one of the sentinels fired at him as he 
ran; his left arm was struck. He struggled on, but his 
friends were now out of reach: he could not find them. 
For several days he wandered about, supporting his life 
on roots and herbs in the vain search for his people. 
Then, growing hourly weaker, he crept back to his vil- 
lage, hoping that by and by the survivors would return 
to their deserted homes, to rebuild their huts and sow 
new crops. But none came. He was alone, and he had 
lain down among the trees, — as he thought, to die. 

'Toor little fellow!” said Mr. Martindale. “How old 
is he, Nando?” 

“He say ten three years, sah,” replied Nando, after 
consulting the boy. 

“Thirteen. He looks older. This is a pretty kettle of 
fish. What can we do with him?” 

“We must take him with us. Uncle,” said Jack. 

“Take him with us, indeed. What can we do with him? 
Can’t hunt for his father and mother; he’d be of no use 


24 


MONSIEUR ELBEL 


to us in our job. He wants doctoring. He might die on 
our hands.” 

“1 learned a little docthoring in the hospital, sorr,” 
said Barney. "‘Sure I think I could mend his arm.” 

“Well, well, Nando and the other man had better bring 
him along to the canoe — gently, you know. Don’t make 
him squeal.” 

The two negroes lifted the boy and the party set off 
to return to the river. 

“A fine responsibility you have let me in for. Jack,” 
said Mr. Martindale as they went along. “I’ve no notion 
of a Crusoe and Friday relationship.” 

“Why not say Don Quixote and Sancha Panza, 
Uncle?” 

“A man of my girth !” said Mr. Martindale, chuckling. 
“But joking apart. Jack, this is a serious business. What 
am I to do with the boy, supposing he gets better? I 
am not a philanthropist; I can’t start a boys’ home; and 
the little chap will be no use to us in our proper work. 
For the life of me I don’t see daylight through this.” 

“We may find him useful in other ways. Uncle. Be- 
sides, we may come across his people.” 

“And we may not — we may not. Jack. Still, have your 
way; only remember, he’s your protege, I wash my 
hands of him. And mind you. I’m not going to start a 
crusade. There’s been terrible work in this village, no 
mistake about it; but I’m not convinced it’s the doing of 
white men: in fact, I refuse to believe it.” 

“But they’re responsible. They shouldn’t employ na- 
tives who are so blackguardly.” 

“That’s where it is, you see. You Britishers employed 
Indians in our War of Independence, didn’t you?” 

“Yes; and Lord Chatham thundered against it, and it 
was put a stop to.” 


25 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“They taught you history at Rugby, did they ? Glad to 
hear it. Well, I dare say Leopold will put a stop to it 
if representations are made to him. It’s none of my 
business, but I’ll mention the matter when I get back to 
Boma. Now, Sambo — ” 

“Samba, Uncle.” 

“ ‘Bo or ba’, it’s all the same. You’ll have to be a good 
boy. Samba. But what’s the good of talking? He can’t 
understand what I say. Doesn’t know good from bad, 
I warrant. Well, well !” 

They reached the canoe and laid Samba gently down 
upon rugs. The rude craft was soon under way. For a 
time Samba lay asleep, with his arm about Pat’s neck; 
but by and by when the paddlers paused in the song with 
which they accompanied their strokes, the boy awoke, and 
began to sing himself, in a low, musical voice that 
struck pleasantly upon the ear after the rougher tones of 
the men. 

**Bauro lofundo! (he sang) ; hauro lofundo! Bompa- 
su la Liwanga bao Lindela ud' okunda Maka nkos'i kokaf* 

This he repeated again and again until he was tired and 
slept once more. 

“Very pretty,” said Mr. Martindale. “The boy would 
make a fortune in New York, Jack. But what does it 
all mean, anyway?” 

“Berrah nice song, sah,” said Nando. “Me tell all 
’bout it. People of Bauro, sah, plenty bad lot. Bompasu 
and Liwanga been and gone after long long into de 
forest, not come back until parrots one two free twenty 
all dah.” 

“Well, I can’t make much of that. Doesn’t seem to 
have any more sense than the songs that our gals sing 
at home.” 

But further inquiry brought out the story. It ap- 
peared that a rubber collector, not satisfied with exacting 


MONSIEUR ELBEL 


from the people of Bauro the usual quantity of rubber, 
had required them to furnish him by a certain day with 
twenty young parrots which he wished to take with him 
to Europe. Being unable to obtain so large a number by 
the given date, the people were declared to be surpass- 
ingly obstinate and wicked, and the sentries Bompasu 
and Liwanga were let loose upon them until the twenty 
parrots were delivered. 

“Humph !’" grunted Mr. Martindale. “Say, wasn’t it 
Macaulay who said he’d write a nation’s history from 
its ballads? Rubber and parrots; what next, I wonder? 
These Congo people have original ideas in the way of 
taxation.” 

“Begorra, sorr,” said Barney, “and don’t I wish the 
taxes in the ould counthry were uv the same kind. Sure 
and ivery man in the counthry would be glad to supply 
the collectors with scores uv sparrows or peewits or 
any other fowl, and murphies, and blackthorns — ivery 
mortal thing but money, sorr.” 

In the course of a few hours the stream they had 
hitherto been navigating ran into a larger tributary of the 
Congo some hundred and fifty miles above the point 
where it joined the main stream. The canoe had scarcely 
entered the broader river when the crew suddenly stopped 
paddling, and Nando, turning around with some ex- 
citement, said — 

“Smoke-boat, sah.” 

“Eh? What?” 

“Smoke-boat never dis way before, sah.” 

“A steamer, eh?” 

“A launch flying the Congo State flag. Uncle — ^blue 
with a golden star,” said Jack, standing up in the canoe 
and taking a long look ahead. 

Nando explained that the rapids, a day’s paddling 
down stream, had prevented the state officers hitherto 
27 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


from bringing steam launches into this part of the river. 
Evidently the vessel now approaching must have been 
carried, as a whole or in sections, overland past these 
rapids — a work of great difficulty and labor, for the 
rapids were at least three miles in length, and the shores 
were at some parts rocky, at others covered with dense 
scrub. 

Almost before Nando had finished his explanation the 
canoe had been put about, and the men began to paddle 
hard down the stream towards the mouth of the little 
river, into which the launch could not follow them. 

“Hi, now, Nando, what are you about?’’ cried Mr. 
Martindale. 

Nando replied that it was always best to avoid the state 
officials. He would lie in a creek until the launch was 
past. 

“I don’t see why we should run away,” said Mr. 
Martindale. “However, after what we’ve just seen. I’ve 
no wish to meet ’em. I might say something that would 
lead to a row with the Company.” 

He lit a cigar and lay back in the canoe. Jack turned 
flat on his face and watched the launch. It was soon 
clear that Nando’s plan was impossible. The launch was 
a swift one: it came on with increased speed, and was 
soon within hailing distance. A voice in French called 
peremptorily upon the canoe to stop. 

“Nando, drop your paddles,” said Mr. Martindale, 
leisurely turning round on his seat. “Answer their hail. 
Jack.” 

“Who are you?” shouted Jack in English. 

The uniformed official in the bow of the launch was 
somewhat taken aback. He had thought to do the ques- 
tioning, not to be questioned. But he replied stiffly — 

“I am Monsieur Elbel, of de Societe Cosmopolite du 
Commerce du Congo/* 


28 


MONSIEUR ELBEL 


The launch was now within a few yards of the canoe. 
Monsieur was a short, thick-set man with reddish hair 
and beard, and a thick red mustache that stuck out 
rigidly a couple of inches on each side of his nose. He 
wore a white topee and white trousers, but his coat was 
blue, with brass buttons and gold lace at the shoulders. 
All but himself on deck were negroes. 

Mr. Martindale ordered the paddlers to bring the canoe 
round so that he might face the Belgian. Then, still 
seated, he blew out a cloud of smoke and said — 

'‘Well, I don’t know you, Mr. Elbel, and if the work 
in Banonga yonder is due to you, I don’t wish to. Paddle 
ahead, Nando.” 

The crew looked somewhat awestruck, but obediently 
dropped their paddles into the stream. Monsieur Elbel’s 
cheeks had turned a fiery red several shades deeper than 
his hair, and the veins upon his forehead swelled. The 
canoe sped past him while he was still endeavoring to 
collect himself. Suddenly a tall negro at his side threw 
out his hand, exclaiming — '‘Ok! ok! ok! oka!”^ 

The Belgian looked in the direction pointed out, and 
the negro followed up his exclamation by a rapid, excited 
sentence. Ordering the engines to be reversed. Monsieur 
Elbel sent the launch in pursuit of the canoe, ran her 
alongside and cried : 

"Halt ! I bid you halt. You are rude. I will run you 
down if you have not care. Dat boy I see in your canoe, 
I know him ; he belong to my Societe; I demand him to 
be given up.” 

"Not so fast, Mr. Elbel. I treat men as they treat me. 
You have no right to stop me. I am an American, a 
citizen of the United States, traveling in the Free State, 
which, I believe, is open to all the world. Besides, I 


1 Exclamation of surprise. 


29 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


have a patent from your Company. I propose to con- 
tinue my journey.” 

“But — but — I tell you, dat boy is not American ; he is 
subject of Congo State, in concession of my Societe; once 
more, I demand him.” 

“Sorry I can’t oblige you. The boy is in my service: 
he has been wounded; perhaps you know how; nothing 
but an order from the Free State courts will compel me 
to give him up. And even then I won’t, knowing what 
I know. That’s flat, Mr. Elbel. You stop me at your 
risk. Go ahead, Nando.” 

The negroes dug their paddles into the water and the 
canoe darted past the side of the launch. Monsieur Elbel 
bit his mustache and savagely tugged its ends; then, 
completely losing control of his temper, he shouted : “You 
hear! I warn you. You act illegal. You come to seek 
for gold : dat is your business ; it is not your business to 
meddle yourself wiz de native. I report you.” 

The launch snorted away down the stream, the canoe 
continued its journey up: and each was soon out of sight 
of the other. 

For some minutes Mr. Martindale seemed preoccupied. 

“What is it. Uncle?” asked Jack, after a time. 

“I was thinking over what that fellow Elbel said. He 
knows more about what we’re after than I quite like. Of 
course they all know we’re after minerals, but Barnard’s 
find is not the dead secret he thought it was. Or say, 
Jack, do you think we are being watched?” 

“Pshaw! he was fishing.” 

“I don’t think so, for he didn’t wait for an answer. 
However, we needn’t meet our difficulties half-way. 
’Twill do Mr. Elbel no harm to know that I don’t care a 
red cent for him or any other Belgian; I suppose he’s 
in charge of this section. But what on earth did the 
fellow want with the boy?” 

30 


MONSIEUR ELBEL 


Nando, without ceasing to ply his paddle, turned his 
head and spoke over his shoulder to Samba, now wide 
awake. 

'‘Samba say him uncle dah, sah; Uncle Boloko, plenty 
bad man.” 

“A wicked uncle, eh?” 

“He berrah angry, sah, ’cos Samba him fader hab got 
plenty more wives, sah ; must be chief some day. Boloko 
he want to be chief: berrah well: Banonga men all say 
*Lako! lako!'^ plenty loud. Boloko berrah much angry: 
go to white men : tell berrah bad fings ’bout Banonga men. 
Samba say Banonga men lib for cut off Boloko his head 
if catch him.” 

“Wigs on the green. Jack! Then I guess this Boloko 
fellow wanted to get in first. Well, it doesn’t raise my 
opinion of Mr. Elbel ; you know a man by the company 
he keeps, eh?” 

“And the Company by him, Uncle.” 


1 Exclamation of refusal. 


31 


CHAPTER IV 


NIGHT ALARMS 

In the course of an hour or two Mr. Martindale’s 
canoe reached the camp, on a piece of rising ground 
immediately above the river. Here he found the rest 
of his party — some fifty strong West African natives — 
the three canoes in which they had come up stream lying 
nose to stern along the low bank, only the first being 
moored, the others roped to it. 

The party had reached the spot three days before, and 
were resting after the fatigues of their journey. These 
had been by no means slight, for the men had had to 
haul the canoes through the rapids, and sometimes to 
make portages for a considerable distance. Fortu- 
nately, the canoes were not heavily laden. They con- 
tained merely a good stock of food for the white men, 
and a few simple mining tools. This was only a pros- 
pecting trip, as Mr. Martindale was careful to explain 
before leaving Boma. 

His friend Barnard’s instructions had been clear 
enough. His discovery had been accidental. Coming 
one day, in the course of his wanderings, to the village 
of Ilola, he happened to learn that the chief’s son was 
down with fever. The villagers had been somewhat 
unfriendly, and Barnard was not loath to purchase their 
good will by doing what he could for the boy. He cured 
the fever. The chief, like most of the negroes of Cen- 
tral Africa, had strong family affections, and was eager 
to give some practical token of his gratitude for his 

32 


NIGHT ALARMS 


son’s recovery. When taking the boy’s pulse, Barnard 
had timed the beats by means of his gold repeater. The 
chief looked on in wonderment, believing that the mys- 
terious sounds he heard from the watch were part of 
the stranger’s magic. When the cure was complete, he 
asked Barnard to present him with the wonderful ticker ; 
but the American made him understand by signs that it 
was too valuable to give away, and useful only to the 
white man. Whereupon the chief had a happy thought. 
If the yellow metal was valuable, his friend and bene- 
factor would like to obtain more of it. There was plenty 
to be found within a short distance of the village. The 
chief would tell him where it was, but him alone, con- 
ditionally. He must promise that if he came for it, or 
sent any one for it, the people of Ilola should not be in- 
jured; for every month brought news from afar of the 
terrible things that were being done by the white men 
in their hunt for rubber. Perhaps the same might happen 
if white men came to look for gold. 

Barnard gave the chief the desired assurance, under- 
taking that no harm should come to him or his people 
if he showed where the gold was to be found. The 
American was then led across a vast stretch of swampy 
ground to a rugged hill some three or four miles from 
Ilola. Through a deep fissure in the hillside trickled 
a tiny stream, and in its sandy bed the traveler dis- 
cerned clear traces of the precious metal. 

Barnard explained to Mr. Martindale that Ilola was 
several days’ journey above the rapids on the Lemba, a 
tributary of the Congo, and provided him with a rough 
map on which he had traced the course of the streams 
he would have to navigate to reach it. But even with- 
out the map it might be found without much difficulty: 
its name was well known among the natives along the 
upper reaches of the river, the chief being lord of sev- 
33 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


eral villages. So far Mr. Martindale’s journey had been 
without a hitch, and he was now within three or four 
days of his destination. 

It was the custom of the party to stay at night in or 
near a native village. There a hut could usually be got 
for the white men, and Barnard had told them that a 
hut was for many reasons preferable to a tent. Sudden 
storms were not infrequent in these latitudes, especially 
at night ; a tent might be blown or washed away almost 
without warning, while a well-built native hut would 
stand fast. Moreover, a tent is at the best uncomforta- 
bly hot and close; a hut is more roomy, and the chinks 
in the matting of which its sides commonly consist allow 
a freer passage of air. The floor, too, is dry and hard, 
often raised above the ground outside; and the roof, 
made of bamboo and thatched with palm leaves and 
coarse grasses, is rain-tight. 

Up to the present Mr. Martindale had met with noth- 
ing but friendliness from the natives, and a hut had 
always been at his disposal. But he had now reached 
a part of the river where the people knew white men 
only by hearsay and could not distinguish between inof- 
fensive travelers and the grasping agents whose cruelty 
rumor was spreading through the land. The people of 
the village where he wished to put up for this night 
were surly and suspicious, and he decided for once to 
sleep in his tent on the river-bank instead of in a hut. 

The party had barely finished their evening meal, when 
the sun sank, and in a few minutes all was dark. Samba 
had been handed over to Barney, whose hospital expe- 
rience enabled him to tend the boy’s wound with no 
little dexterity, and the boy went happily to sleep in Bar- 
ney’s tent, his arm around Pat’s neck. Jack shared his 
uncle’s tent. He had been somewhat excited by the scenes 
and events of the day, and did not fall asleep the mo- 
34 


NIGHT ALARMS 


ment he lay down, as he usually did. The tent was 
very warm and stuffy; the mosquitoes found weak spots 
in his curtains and sought diligently for unexplored re- 
gions of his skin, until he found the conditions intoler- 
able. He got up, envying his uncle, who was sound 
asleep, his snores vying with the distant roars of hippo- 
potami in the river. Taking care not to disturb him. 
Jack stepped out of the tent, and understood at once 
why the air was so oppressive. A storm was brewing. 
Everything was still as if weighted down by some mon- 
strous incubus. Ever and anon the indigo sky was cut 
across by steel-blue flashes of forked lightning, and thun- 
der rumbled far away. 

Jack sauntered on, past Barney’s tent, towards the 
river-bank, listening to noises rarely heard by day— the 
grunt of hippopotami, the constant rasping croak of 
frogs, the lesser noises of birds and insects among the 
reeds. The boatmen and other natives of the party 
were a hundred yards away, beyond the tents he had 
just left. Sometimes they would chatter till the small 
hours, but to-night they were silent, sleeping heavily 
after their toil. 

He came to a little eminence, from which he could 
look down towards the stream. Everything was black 
and indistinguishable. But suddenly, as a jagged flash 
of lightning momentarily lit the scene, he fancied he 
caught a glimpse of a figure moving below, about the 
spot where the nearest of the canoes was moored. Was 
it a wild beast, he wondered, prowling for food? Or, 
perhaps, his eyes had deceived him. He moved a little 
forward; carefully, for the blackness of night seemed 
deeper than ever. Another flash ! He had not been 
mistaken ; it was a figure, moving on one of the canoes — 
a human form, a man, stooping, with a knife in his hand ! 
What was he doing? Once more for an instant the 
35 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


lightning lit up the river, and as by a flash Jack guessed 
the man’s purpose; he was about to cut the mooring 
rope! 

Jack’s first impulse was to shout; but in a moment he 
saw that a sudden alarm might cause the natives of his 
party to stampede. The intruder was alone, and a negro ; 
why not try to capture him? Jack was ready with his 
hands : his muscles were in good order ; he could wrestle 
and box, and, as became a boy of Tom Brown’s school, 
fight. True, the man had a knife; but with the advan- 
tage of surprise on his side Jack felt that the odds were 
fairly equal. He stole down the slope to the waterside, 
hoping that the darkness would remain unbroken until 
he had stalked his man. A solitary bush at the very 
brink gave him cover; standing behind it, almost touch- 
ing the sleepy sentry who should have been guarding 
the canoes. Jack could just see the dark form moving 
from the first canoe to the second. 

He waited until the man bent over to cut the con- 
necting rope ; then with three long silent leaps he gained 
the side of the foremost canoe, which was almost resting 
on the bank in just sufficient water to float her. The 
man had already made two or three slashes at the rope 
when he heard Jack’s splash in the shallow water. With 
a dexterous twist of his body he eluded Jack’s clutch, 
and swinging around aimed with his knife a savage blow 
at his assailant. Jack felt a stinging pain in the fleshy 
part of the thigh, and, hot with rage, turned to grapple 
with the negro. His fingers touched a greasy skin; the 
man drew back, wriggled round, and prepared to leap 
overboard. At the moment when he made his spring 
Jack flung out his hands to catch him. He was just a 
second too late ; the negro had splashed into the shallow 
water on the far side of the canoe, and disappeared into 
the inky blackness beyond, leaving in Jack’s hand a 
36 


NIGHT ALARMS 


broken string, with a small round object dangling from 
the end. At the same moment there was a heavy thwack 
against the side of the canoe; and Jack, mindful of croc- 
odiles, bolted up the bank. He turned after a few yards, 
shuddering to think that the man had perhaps escaped 
him only to fall a victim to this most dreadful scourge 
of African rivers. But if he was indeed in the jaws of 
a crocodile he was beyond human help. He listened for 
a time, but could detect no sound betraying the man’s 
presence. Pursuit, he knew, was useless. Except when 
the lightning flashed he could scarcely see a yard before 
him. Jack did not care to disturb his uncle. He went 
round the camp, found Nando with some difficulty in the 
darkness, and ordered him to send four of the crew to 
occupy the canoes for the rest of the night. Then he 
went back to his tent, bound up his wound, and stretched 
himself on his mattress. He lay awake for a time, won- 
dering what motive the intruder could have for dam- 
aging the expedition. At last, from sheer weariness, he 
dropped off into a troubled sleep. 

Next morning he told his uncle what had occurred. 

“Humph !” grunted Mr. Martindale, “what’s the mean- 
ing of it, I wonder?” 

“Do you think it was a move of that Belgian fellow. 
Uncle?” 

“Mr. Elbel ? No, I don’t. He has no reason for inter- 
fering with us. I’ve bought the rights from his Com- 
pany, and as they’ll get royalties on all the gold I find, 
he’s not such a fool as to hinder us.” 

“But Samba, Uncle?” 

“Bah! He was egged on to demand the boy by that 
villainous-looking nigger, and, his dignity being a trifle 
upset, he thought he’d try it on with us. No, I don’t think 
he was at the bottom of it. I’ve always heard that these 
niggers are arrant thieves ; the villagers were unfriendly, 

37 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 

you remember, and most likely ^twas one of them that 
took a fancy to our canoes. Glad you frightened him 
off, anyway. What about your wound?’’ 

‘Tt’s nothing to speak of — a slight flesh wound. I 
washed it with alum solution, and I don’t think it will 
give me any bother.” 

“Lucky it’s no worse. We’ll set a careful watch every 
night after this. And take my advice : if you can’t sleep, 
don’t go prowling about; it isn’t safe in these parts. Try 
my dodge, shut your eyes and imagine you see forty 
thousand sheep jumping a patent boundary fence one 
after another, or, if that doesn’t work, say to yourself: 
'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a wood- 
chuck could chuck wood?’ and keep on saying it. I’ve 
never known it to fail.” 

“Perhaps it’s a good job I didn’t know it last night,” 
replied Jack, laughing. “We should have been minus 
four canoes.” 

“And all our stores. But don’t do it again, there’s a 
good fellow. I’ve paid double passage, and I don’t want 
to go home alone.” 

The camp was by this time astir. The natives, chat- 
tering like monkeys, were busily preparing their break- 
fast. Barney was engaged in a like service for the white 
men, and Samba proved himself to be an adept at clean- 
ing the fish which some of the men had caught in the 
early morning. 

“Sure an’ he’ll be a treasure, sorr,” said Barney, as he 
handed Mr. Martindale his cup of tea and plate of broiled 
fish. 

“Is the boy getting better ?” 

“As fast as he can, sorr. ’Twas want uv food more 
than wounds that was wrong wid him. All he needs 
is a dish of good honest murphies twice a day, and 
sorry I am they do not grow in this hay then country.” 
38 


NIGHT ALARMS 


It was one of Barney’s crosses that the only potatoes 
obtainable en route were the sweet variety. Mr. Martin- 
dale rather liked them, a weakness which Barney re- 
garded with sorrow as an injustice to Ireland. 

Breakfast finished, the canoes were manned and the 
expedition resumed its journey. Samba kept the negroes 
amused with his songs and chatter and clever imitations 
of the cries of birds and beasts. His restless eyes seemed 
to miss nothing of the scenes along the river. He would 
point to what appeared to be a log cast up on the sand, 
and exclaim ''NkoHT and utter shrill screams, and the 
log would perhaps disappear, leaving no trace, or move 
and open a sleepy eye, and Barney would ejaculate, “A 
crocodile, by all the holy powers !” Once he drew Jack’s 
attention to a greenish lizard, some eight inches long, 
creeping down an ant-hill towards a tiny shrewmouse. 
Spying the enemy, the little creature darted down the 
slope and took a header into the water; but the lizard 
came close upon its heels, sprang after it, and dragged 
it down into the deep. 

“And what do you make of this?” said Jack suddenly, 
showing Samba the amulet he had torn from the neck 
of the midnight marauder. The boy started, stared at 
the piece of bone, looked up in Jack’s face and exclaimed: 

^'Bokun'oka fafa!”^ 

“Him say belong him uncle,” Nando interpreted. 

Samba spoke rapidly to Nando. 

“Him say belong berrah bad uncle on smoke-boat, sah. 
Him say how massa get him?” 

Jack related the incident of the night, Nando trans- 
lating to the boy, who listened gravely, but smiled at 
the end. 

“Why does he smile?” asked Jack. 


My father’s younger brother. 

3P 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“He say him uncle no lib for good any more ; lost medi- 
cine fing ; he no fit to do bad things any more ; allers get 
cotched.” 

“Begorra, sorr, ’tis like me very own Uncle Tim, who 
niver had a day’s luck after he lost the lucky sixpence 
given to ’m by a ginerous Scotch gintleman for holding 
a horse in Sackville Street whin he was a bhoy. He had 
always been unlucky before that, sorr, and sure the lucky 
sixpence would have made a rich man uv ’m in time; 
but he lost it the very same day, sorr, and had no luck 
at all, at all/’ 

“Well,” said Mr. Martindale, laughing, “if the loss of 
this amulet means that the owner will never succeed in 
any tricks against us, I congratulate you. Jack. Shall you 
wear it yourself?” 

“No, Uncle, I’ll give it to Samba.” 

But Samba, when the charm was given to him, looked 
at it seriously for a moment, then his face broke into a 
beaming smile as he slipped the string about Pat’s neck. 

''Mhua end’ olotsi!”'^ he cried, clapping his hands. 

Pat barked with pleasure and licked the boy’s face. 

“They’re great chums already,” remarked Mr. Martin- 
dale pleasantly, as he bit the end off a cigar. 

That evening, when the time for camping came, there 
was no village in sight from the river, and Nando re- 
ported that the nearest lay too far from the stream to 
suit his employer. The banks were thickly wooded, and 
it appeared as if there would be some difficulty in find- 
ing a place sufficiently clear for a camp. But at last the 
travelers came to a spot where a stretch of level grass- 
land ran wedge-like into the vegetation. At one end 
the ground rose gradually until it formed a bluff over- 
hanging the river at a considerable height. This seemed 


1 Good dog. 


40 


NIGHT ALARMS 


as favorable a place as was likely to be discovered, and 
here the camp was pitched, the evening meal was eaten, 
and the travelers sought repose. 

The night was very dark, and deep silence brooded 
over the encampment, such silence as the dweller in 
towns can never know. Not even the shriek of a noc- 
turnal monkey or the splash of a fish pursued by a croco- 
dile broke the stillness. Every member of the party 
was asleep. But all at once. Samba, lying just within 
the flap-door of Barney O’Dowd’s tent, one arm pillow- 
ing his head, the other clasping the terrier, was disturbed 
by a low whine. He was awake in an instant. He had 
never heard Pat whine; the dog barked at everything; 
why had he changed his manner of speech? Samba got 
up: Pat had left him and stood in the entrance of the 
tent; the whine had become a growl. The boy followed 
him, stooped and felt in the dark for his head, then lifted 
him in his arms and went out, laying a hand on the 
dog’s muzzle to silence his growl. Like other terriers, 
Pat objected to being carried. 

The whine had wakened Barney also; Pat and he had 
passed many a night together. He heard the slight sound 
made by Samba’s departure, and, rising, went out in his 
stockings to follow him. He walked a few yards in the 
direction he supposed Samba had taken, but it was too 
dark to see him, and neither boy nor dog made any fur- 
ther sound. Barney retraced his steps, and, wandering 
a little from the way he had come, stumbled over the 
sleeping body of one of the men placed as sentinels. He 
gave him a kick. 

'‘Get up, you varmint!” he cried. “Is that the fashion 
of keeping gyard?” 

But as soon as he had passed on, the man rolled over, 
gave a grunt, and was fast asleep again. 

Meanwhile Samba had walked on toward the river- 

41 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


bank, stopping at intervals to listen. But he heard noth- 
ing, not even the usual night sounds came to him; the 
surrounding forest seemed asleep. Suddenly, however, 
Pat became restless and uttered a rumbling growl. Sam- 
ba held him close and whispered to him, and the dog ap- 
parently understood, for the growl ceased. Then Samba 
caught the faint sound of paddles up stream — a sound so 
familiar to him that it could not be mistaken. 

He crept cautiously along, up the gradual ascent, until 
he came near the summit of the overhanging cliff. Mov- 
ing stealthily to the edge he peered over ; but in the black- 
ness he could see nothing. The sound had ceased. 

Feeling his way carefully with his bare feet. Samba 
slowly made his way down the grassy cliff until he came 
near the water’s edge, then crept along the bank up 
stream. Again Pat uttered his low growl, but was in- 
stantly silent in response to the boy’s whispered warn- 
ing. Samba seemed to find his way by instinct over the 
uneven ground. Now and again he heard a beast scurry 
away at his approach and rustle through the bushes or 
plunge into the river; but he was not afraid; there was 
little risk of encountering a dangerous animal, and he 
was too far above the sandy level to stumble upon a 
crocodile lying in wait. 

He went on steadily. It was not a native custom to 
move about in the dark hours, and, remembering what 
had happened the night before, he was intent upon dis- 
covering the business of the mysterious paddlers. After 
Pat’s last smothered growl he proceeded more cautiously 
than ever. At last the sound of low voices ahead made 
him halt. Whispering again to Pat, who licked his hand 
as if to reassure him, he set the dog down and crept 
forward again, bending low, and taking care, dark as it 
was, to avail himself of every bush for cover. To judge 
by the voices, a large number of men must have gathered 


NIGHT ALARMS 


at some point not far ahead. He drew still nearer. All 
at once he halted once more, and laid a hand on Pat’s 
neck. Among the voices he had distinguished one that he 
knew only too well : it was that of his Uncle Boloko. He 
stood rooted to the spot with dismay. 

A few minutes later his quick ear caught the sound of 
footsteps moving off at right angles to the river in a di- 
rection that would enable them to skirt the cliff and come 
upon the sleeping camp through the forest in its rear. In 
a flash he saw through their scheme. Bidding Pat in a 
whisper to follow him, he turned and hurried back, climb- 
ing the face of the cliffs with a panther’s sure-footedness, 
and racing along at top speed as soon as he came to the 
downward slope. With Pat at his heels, he dashed into 
Barney’s tent. 

'‘Etumha! EtumbaT he exclaimed breathlessly. ‘‘Ba- 
le fund'd hao 'ya!”^ 

And Pat chimed in with three rapid barks. 


1 The villains are upon us I 


43 


CHAPTER V 


THE ORDER OF MERIT 

"‘Bad ’cess to you, you young varmint !” exclaimed Bar- 
ney, waking with a start. “What do you say at all!” 

‘‘Ba-lo fundu hao ya! Boloko !” 

“Be jabers, if I know what you’d be meaning. Off! 
Run! Nando! And it’s pitch dark it is.” 

The boy scampered off, Pat still at his heels. The dog 
had evidently been impressed by Samba’s warnir^s, for 
he ran silently, without growl or bark. They came to the 
spot where Nando lay, beneath a spreading acacia. Sam- 
ba shook him without ceremony. 

“Ra-/o fundu hao yal” he cried. ^^Befsua! BetsuaT'^ 

Nando growled and bade him be off: but when the boy 
poured his story with eager excitement into the big 
negro’s sleepy ears, Nando at last bestirred himself, and 
hurried to Mr. Martindale’s tent, bidding Samba remain 
at hand. 

“Samba him uncle, berrah bad man, come to fight,” 
said Nando breathlessly, when Jack came to the door of 
the tent. “Bad man go round round, hide in trees, come 
like leopard. Massa gone ’sleep; massa him men all lib 
for big sleep; Boloko shoot; one, two, massa dead all 
same.” v 

“What, what!” said Mr. Martindale, flinging off his 
rug. “Another alarm, eh ?” He pressed the button of an 
electric torch and threw a faint light on the scene. 


i“Wake upr 


44 


THE ORDER OF MERIT 


‘‘An attack in force this time, Uncle,” said Jack. 
“Some black fellows are coming to surprise us in the 
rear.” 

“How many are the villains?” said Mr. Martindale, 
putting on his trousers. 

“Two, three, hundred, fousand.” 

“A dozen all told, I suppose ! Well, we’ll fight ’em.” 

“Rather risky, that. Uncle,” said Jack. “There may be 
more than a dozen, after all, and our men are not armed : 
we two couldn’t do much against a hundred, say.” 

“True. Why was I such a fool? That Britisher at 
Matadi said Fd better arm my men, and I wish I’d taken 
his tip. We’re in a tight corner. Jack, if the nigger is 
correct. Here, Nando, are you sure of this?” 

“Sartin sure, sah. Me see fousand fifty black men 
creep, creep ’long ribber, sah; big lot guns; ’Bini guns, 
massa, go crack, crack. Come all round, sah; run like 
antelope : no time for massa run away.” 

Nando’s face expressed mortal terror. There was no 
doubt he believed in the reality of the danger. 

“How did they come?” asked Mr. Martindale. 

“In boat, sah.” 

“Where are the canoes?” 

“Small small up ribber, sah.” 

“And I suppose you’ve alarmed the camp?” 

“No, sah, no. No tell one boy at all.” 

“Well, it looks as if we’re going to be wiped out. Jack. 
We can’t fight a hundred. If our fellows were armed, we 
might lay a trap for ’em, but we’re not strong enough for 
that. Perhaps if we show we’re ready for ’em, and 
they’re not going to surprise us, they may sheer off.” 

“Then why not take the offensive. Uncle ?” 

“What d’you mean?” 

“Attack the canoes while the most of them are march- 


45 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


ing round. They’d hear our shots and bolt back, as sure 
as a gun.’’ 

'‘That’s slim. We’ll try it. Go and wake Barney, 
Jack.” 

Barney, however, was already on his way to the tent. 
Jack explained the situation to him. 

“Here’s a revolver, Barney,” said Mr. Martindale, as 
the Irishman came up. “You must do the best you can 
if there’s a rush. Jack and I are going right away to the 
river: you’re in charge.” 

Barney handled the revolver gingerly. 

“Sure I’d feel more at home wid me shillalah!” he 
muttered as he went away. Mr. Martindale turned to the 
negro. 

“Now, you, Nando, lead the way.” 

The man’s eyes opened wide with fear. 

“Me plenty sick in eyes, sah,” he stammered. “Me 
only see small small. Boy Samba him eyes berrah fine 
and good, see plenty quick, massa; he show way.” 

“I don’t care who shows the way,” said Mr. Martin- 
dale, too much preoccupied with his hunting rifle and 
ammunition to notice the inconsistency between Nando’s 
statement and the story he had already told. Nando 
called to Samba and told him what was required, and the 
party set oif, the boy going ahead with Pat, Mr. Martin- 
dale and Jack following with their rifles, and Nando in 
great trepidation bringing up the rear. 

Mr. Martindale puffed and panted as he scaled the 
bluff, and breathed very hard as he followed Samba down 
the rough descent to the brink of the river. When they 
came to comparatively level ground they halted. 

“How far now?” asked Mr. Martindale, in a whisper. 

“Small small, massa,” replied Nando. 

“Well, Jack, when we come near these precious canoes 
46 


THE ORDER OF MERIT 


we’ll fire both barrels, one slick after the other, then re- 
load.” 

‘‘And go at them with a rush. Uncle ?” 

“Rush! How can I rush? I’m pretty well blown al- 
ready. But I could fetch wind enough to shout. We’ll 
shout. Jack. Nando, you’ll bawl your loudest, and the 
boy, too. If I know these niggers, they’ll bolt. And look 
here. Jack, fire in the air; we don’t want to hit ’em. If 
they stand their ground and resist, we can fire in good 
earnest, but they won’t.” 

They took a few cautious steps forward, then Samba 
ran back, clutched Nando by the arm and whispered. 

“Boat dah, sah,” said the negro, under his breath. 
“Oh ! me feel plenty sick inside 1” 

“Hush ! Howl, then, when we fire. Now, Jack, ready? 
I’ll let off my two barrels first.” 

Next moment there was a flash and a crack, followed 
immediately by a second. Nando and Samba had begun 
to yell at the top of their voices. Mr. Martindale bel- 
lowed in one continuous roll, and Pat added to the din 
by a furious barking. The noise, even to those who made 
it, was sufficiently startling in the deep silence of the 
night. Jack fired his two shots, but before his uncle had 
reloaded there was a yell from the direction of the canoes, 
then the sound of men leaping on shore and crashing 
through the bushes. Immediately afterwards faint shouts 
came from the forest at the rear of the bluff. 

“We’ve done the trick,” said Mr. Martindale with a 
chuckle. “Now we’ll get back. They’ve had a scare. 
Let’s hope we shall have no more trouble to-night.” 

He flashed his electric torch on the river-bank below 
and revealed five large canoes drawn up side by side. 

“There must be more than a hundred of them,” he 
added. “Each of those canoes can carry thirty men.” 

47 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


As they went back towards the camp, they heard re- 
newed shouts, as the men who had marched into the 
forest broke out again in a wild dash for the threatened 
canoes. The camp was in commotion. Barney was volu- 
bly adjuring the startled natives to be “aisy”; but they 
were yelling, running this way and that, tumbling over 
one another in the darkness. The sight of Mr. Martin- 
dale’s round, red face behind his electric torch reassured 
them ; and when Nando, who had now quite recovered his 
spirits, told them that he, with the white men’s assistance, 
had put to flight twenty thousand bad men and Boloko, 
they laughed and slapped their thighs, and settled down 
in groups to discuss the event and make much of Nando 
during the rest of the night. There was no more sleep 
for any of the party except Samba. He, satisfied that 
his new friends were safe, curled himself up on his mat 
with the inseparable terrier, and slept until the dawn. 
But Mr. Martindale sat smoking in his tent, discussing 
the events of the night with his nephew. 

‘T don’t like it. Jack. We’re on top this time, thanks 
to a little bluff. But there must have been a large number 
of them, to judge by the canoes and the yells, and but 
for that fellow Nando we might easily have been wiped 
out. And from what Nando says they are those villainous 
forest guards of the Concession. What’s the meaning of 
it ? It may be that the Concession have repented of their 
bargain and want to keep me out, or perhaps Elbel is ter- 
rified lest I shall expose him when I get back to Boma. 
Either way it seems as if we’re going to have a bad time 
of it.” 

“I don’t think it can be Elbel’s doing. Uncle. It’s such 
a risky game to play, your expedition being authorized 
by his own people.” 

“I don’t imagine Elbel is such a fool as to attack us 
officially. He can always disavow the actions of those 
48 


THE ORDER OF MERIT 


natives. At any rate, I shall make a point of getting rifles 
for the men as soon as I can.” 

“They can’t use them.” 

“Of course they can’t ; but you’ll have to turn yourself 
into a musketry instructor. Meanwhile, I must give that 
fellow Nando some sort of reward. It will encourage 
him, and the others, too.” 

When daylight broke, Mr. Martindale went down to the 
river while Barney was preparing breakfast. There was 
no trace of the enemy. Presumably they had set their 
canoes afloat and drifted down stream in the darkness. 
They had no doubt reckoned on surprising the camp, and 
their calculations had been upset by the certainty of 
meeting resistance, the fact that the travelers were poorly 
armed being forgotten in the panic bred of the sudden 
uproar in the night. 

After breakfast Mr. Martindale had the men paraded 
in a semicircle around the tent, and sitting on a stool in 
front of it, with Jack on one side and Barney on the 
other, he called Nando forward. 

“We are very much pleased with your watchfulness, 
Nando.” 

The negro grinned, and with a ludicrous air of im- 
portance translated the sentence to his comrades. 

“It is due to you that we were not surprised in the 
dark ; you did very well and set an excellent example to 
the men.” 

“Me plenty clebber, sah, oh, yes!” 

“I shall take care in the future to have our camp more 
closely guarded, and punish any carelessness. But now, 
to show how pleased I am with you, I am going to give 
you a little present.” 

Nando’s mouth spread from ear to ear. He translated 
the announcement to the negroes, looking round upon 
them with an expression of triumphant satisfaction that 
49 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


tickled Jack’s sense of humor. Barney had shut one eye; 
his lips were twitching. 

“But before I do that,” went on Mr. Martindale, “I 
want you to tell me how you came to discover the enemy 
in the darkness.” 

Nando for a moment looked a little nonplussed, scratch- 
ing his head and shifting from foot to foot. Then in- 
spiration seized him; he elaborately cleared his throat, 
snapped his fingers, crossed his arms on his brawny chest, 
and began : 

“Me no get sleep, me get up and go round about, fink 
see if massa’s fings all right. Me stop, go sick inside: 
one, two eyes like twinkle twinkle look down out of tree.” 
He waved his arm towards the acacia under which he 
had been sleeping. “Me fink dis plenty bad. What for 
man lib for hide in tree and look at Nando? Me no 
’fraid, no, no; me walk all same like me no see nuffin. 
Yah ! me see all same, wait long time, man no fit for see 
Nando. Bimeby man come down like snake, creep, creep 
’long ’long ; me go, too ; what for ? ’Cos man plenty bad 
man, him got ’Bini gun, him go into wood. What for? 
Muss see; s’pose he go fetch bad man and shoot massa? 
He no come dis way ’less he lib for do bad fings. Him 
got ’Bini gun, me got spear; no good! Me no ’fraid. 
Plenty debbils in forest. Me no ’fraid. Massa say, 'Nando 
look after fings;’ all same: Nando look after, no ’fraid, 
’Bini gun, debbils and all. What for? Massa him Nando 
him fader and mudder. S’pose bad men shoot; s’pose 
debbil come ; all same, muss do what massa say, look after 
fings, look after massa. Me no ’fraid. 

“Me go ’long ’long after bad man. He come to place 
no trees, grass all same. One, two, twenty, fousand bad 
men dah. Bad man say, *Kwate! Kzvate!'^ Dey talk. 


so 


iHush! 


THE ORDER OF MERIT 


oh, yes! whish! whish! same as trees when wind make 
talk. Me get behind tree ; me hab got two, four, twenty 
ears. Me listen! Dey say come, creep, creep, bring 
’Bini gun; white man all ’sleep; black man come, no 
noise, shoot! Oh, my gracious! white man all lib for 
dead. Me no ’fraid !” 

“Who was the chief of these bad men?” interrupted 
Mr. Martindale. 

“Boloko! Samba him uncle.” 

“But how could you tell that in the dark?” 

“Dey hab got light ; one, two, twenty tiny small fire on 
stick.” 

“Torches, he means, I suppose,” said Mr. Martindale. 
“How did you find your way back in the dark?” 

“Yah! me know all ’bout dat. Me lib long time in 
forest, oh, yes! Me fight little tiny men; dey plenty 
small, 'plenty good fighter all same ; shoot one, two, free 
arrow; one, two, free fings gone dead. Me fight dem; 
so me find way like leopard.” 

“Well, you’re a clever fellow, and you did very well. 
Here is a present for you.” 

He took from his pocket a huge bone-handled penknife, 
displayed its various parts one by one: four blades, a 
corkscrew, a file, a hook and an awl. Nando’s eyes 
opened wide with delight; he chuckled gloatingly as one 
after another of these treasures came to view. Mr. Mar- 
tindale was shutting them up before handing over the 
knife, when Barney stepped quietly forward, touched his 
cap, and said : 

“If you plase, sorr, before you part with this handsome 
presentation, will I have your leave to ax Mr. Nando wan 
question ?” 

“Eh? What? Why, you can if you like,” said Mr. 
Martindale, in surprise. 


51 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“Thank you, yer honor. Now, Mr. Nando, would you 
plase tell us if you ate a big supper of maniac last night ?” 

“Manioc, Barney,” corrected Jack with a smile. 

“Sure, that’s what I said, sorr. Would you plase tell 
his honor, Mr. Nando?” 

The man looked in amazement from one to another. 
He seemed to suspect a pitfall, but was puzzled to make 
out the bearing of the question. 

“Sure, I speak plain. Did ye, or did ye not, eat a big 
supper uv anything at all last night?” 

“Me eat plenty little manioc,” said Nando, thinking 
he was expected to defend himself against a charge of 
gluttony. “Me no pig like common black man.” 

“And you did not get a pain?” — here Barney helped 
out his meaning with pantomime — “nor dream all that 
terrible wild stuff you have just been telling us?” 

“Me no can dream!” cried Nando indignantly. “Me 
say true fings all same.” 

“Sure, thin, if your supper didn’t give ye the night- 
mare, mine did. Begorra ! ’twas a mighty terrible dream 
I dreamt, indeed, Mr. Nando. I dreamt you was snoring 
like a pig — like a common black man, to be sure; and 
there came a little spalpeen uv a black bhoy, a common 
black bhoy, and shook ye by the shoulder, and called 
*Baa! Baa! Bioko/ and some more I disremember now; 
and thin — ” 

Nando, who had been looking more and more uneasy, 
here interrupted, hurriedly addressing Mr. Martindale. 

“Me plenty sick inside, sah,” he said, pressing his 
hands to the pit of his stomach. “Me eat plenty too much 
manioc all same.” 

Crestfallen and abashed, the big fellow slunk away. 
Jack roaring with laughter, Mr. Martindale looking on 
in speechless amazement. 

“Begorra, sorr,” said Barney, “ ’tis a born liar he is. 
52 


THE ORDER OF MERIT , 


He was fast asleep in the arms uv murphies, or manioc, 
speaking by the card, till the bhoy Samba woke him up. 
’Twas Samba, sorr, that spied the enemy, and ’twas me 
little darlint of a dog that gave the first alarm. Give a 
dog his due, sorr, and if you plase, give Samba the 
knife.’^ 

Mr. Martindale first looked annoyed, then broke into 
hearty laughter. He called for Samba, who came up 
smiling, with Pat at his heels. 

“Where’s that villain Nando?” cried Mr. Martindale. 
“He shall come and interpret.” 

In response to a summons, Nando came from behind 
the crowd of natives. He had recovered his composure, 
and translated with glib and smiling unconcern the story 
which Samba told. Only when Mr. Martindale handed 
Samba the knife did the negro look sorry. 

“Me no lib for eat too big lot manioc nudder time,” 
he said glumly, and went away. 


53 


CHAPTER VI 

SAMBA IS MISSING 

Nando was like a child in his humors. His broad face 
could not long be overclouded. When the party once 
more embarked he performed his work as chief paddler 
with his usual cheerfulness. All that day the river washed 
the edge of a continuous forest tract, a spur, as Jack 
understood from Nando’s not too lucid explanations, of 
the vast Upper Congo forest that stretched for many 
hundreds of miles across the heart of Africa. Jack 
gazed with great curiosity, merged sometimes in a sense 
of awe and mystery, at the dark impenetrable woodland. 
It was only a year or two since he had read Stanley’s 
account of his wonderful march through the forest, and 
his vivid recollection was quickened and intensified by the 
sight of the actual scene. 

“And are there pygmies in that forest — ^little men, you 
know?” he asked Nando. 

“Sartin sure, sah. Me fight tousand hundred little 
tiny men: me no ’fraid. Dey shoot plenty good, sah; 
one arrow shoot two, three birds. Dey hab berrah fine 
eye, sah; see what big man can no see. Massa see dem 
some day ; make massa laugh plenty much.” 

Here and there, in places where the river widened out, 
the travelers came upon herds of hippopotami disporting 
themselves in the shallows. Their presence was often 
indicated first by strange squeals and grunts, then a huge 
head would be seen on the surface of the water as the 
beast heard the regular splash of the paddles and was 
54 


SAMBA IS MISSING 


provoked to investigate its cause; his jaws would open, 
disclosing a vast pink chasm, and having completed his 
long yawn, and satisfied himself that the strangers in- 
tended no harm, he would plunge his head again beneath 
the water, or turn clumsily to wallow in uncouth gambols 
with his mates. The negroes always plied their paddles 
more rapidly at such spots. Nando told stories of hip- 
popotami which had upset canoes out of sheer mischief, 
and of others which, pricked and teased by native spears, 
had lain in wait among the rushes and wrecked the craft 
of fishers returning to their homes at dusk. 

‘‘Me no Traid of little man,’^ said Nando. “Me plenty 
much Traid of hippo.” 

Now and again a crocodile, disturbed in his slumbers 
by the splashing of the paddles or the songs of the men, 
would dart out of a creek and set off in furious chase; 
but finding the canoe a tougher morsel than he expected, 
would sink after a disappointed sniffing and disappear. 
Occasionally Mr. Martindale or Jack would take a shot 
at the reptiles, but they were so numerous that by and 
by they desisted from their “potting,” Mr. Martindale 
regarding it as a waste of good ammunition. * 

The natives whom they saw at riverside villages were 
now sometimes suspicious and disinclined to have any 
communication with the strangers. Returning from in- 
terviews with them, Nando reported that they had heard 
of the massacre of Banonga, and though he reassured 
them that his employer was no friend of the tyrants, he 
failed to convince them; he was a white man, that was 
enough. It was with some difficulty and only after the 
exercise of much tact, patience, and good humor on 
Nando's part, that he managed to obtain enough food 
to supply the needs of the men. 

Two days passed amid similar scenes. The journey 
never became monotonous, for in that wonderful land 
55 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


there is always something fresh to claim the traveler’s 
attention. Jack began to give Samba lessons in English, 
and found him an apt enough pupil, though in practising 
his newly-acquired words afterwards, the boy, to Jack’s 
amusement, adopted ‘'a pronounced Irish accent from 
Barney. 

On the morning of the third day, when the camp be- 
came active, Barney was somewhat surprised to find 
that Samba and Pat did not join him as usual at break- 
fast. Boy and dog had gone to sleep just inside his tent, 
and he had not seen or heard their departure. Breakfast 
was cleared away, everything was packed up in readiness 
for starting, and yet the missing members of the party 
had not appeared. Both were very popular; Samba’s 
unfailing cheerfulness had made him a general favorite, 
and Pat’s sagacity, his keen sporting instincts, and the 
vigor of his barking when hippopotami or crocodiles 
came too near the canoe, won for him a good deal of 
admiration from the natives. 

“What! Samba gone!” exclaimed Mr. Martindale, 
when Barney told him of the disappearance. “Have you 
called him?” 

“Sure me throat is sore wid it, sorr,” said Barney, “and 
me lips are cracked wid me whistlin’ for Pat, bad ’cess 
to ’m.” 

“The dog has gone too, eh? I reckon Samba’s a thief 
like the rest of ’em.” 

“Begging yer pardon, sorr, it takes two to make a 
thief, one to steal, the other to be stolen. Pat would 
never agree to be stolen, sorr; besides,' he would never 
be such an ungrateful spalpeen uv a dog, not to speak 
uv the bad taste of it, as to desert his ould master for a 
nigger bhoy.” 

“Well, what’s become of them, then? Nando, where’s 
Samba?” 


56 


SAMBA IS MISSING 


“Me no can tell, sah. Me tink crocodile eat him, sah. 
Little tiny black boy go walk all alone alone night-time. 
Yah! crocodile come ’long, fink black boy make plenty 
good chop. Soosh! little black boy in ribber, crocodile 
eat him all up, sah. What for black boy go walk alone? 
One time all right, Nando eat manioc; nodder time all 
wrong, crocodile eat Samba.” 

Nando shook his head sententiously : Samba’s exploit 
on the night of the alarm was evidently still rankling. 

“That’s not it at all,” said Barney; “Pat would niver 
permit any crocodile, wid all his blarney, to eat him; 
and if a crocodile ate Samba, sure Pat would have been 
the first to come and tell us.” 

“No, it’s your Irish that has frightened the* boy,” said 
Jack gravely. “I’ve been trying to teach him a few 
words of English; but I’ve noticed once or twice, after 
I’ve done with him, that he pronounced the words as if 
he’d learned them in Ireland. No decent black boy could 
stand that, you know, Barney.” 

“Faith, ’tis Irishmen that speak the best English,” re- 
turned Barney; “did I not hear them wid me very own 
ears in the House of Parliament?” 

“Well, Jack, we must go on,” said Mr. Martindale. “I 
was afraid the boy would be a botheration.” 

“He has done us a good turn. Uncle. Couldn’t we 
wait an hour or two and see if he turns up ?” 

“It’s not business. Jack.” 

“My dear Uncle, it’s no use of your posing as a hard- 
hearted man of business. You know you’re quite fond 
of the boy.” 

“Eh ! well, I own he’s a likely little fellow, and I sort 
of felt he’s a part of the concern: in short. Jack, we’ll 
put in an hour or two and give him a chance.” 

An hour passed, and Pat made his appearance. He 
57 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


trotted soberly into camp, not frisking or barking joy- 
ously as was his wont. 

“Arrah thin, ye spalpeen, where’s Samba?” cried Bar- 
ney, as the dog came to him. 

Pat hung his head, and put his tail between his legs, 
and whined. 

“Go and fetch him, then,” cried Barney. 

The terrier looked at his master, turned as if to do his 
bidding, then moved slowly round and whined again. 

“Sure ’tis not devoured by a crocodile he is, or Pat 
would be in a terrible rage. The boy has deserted, sorr, 
and Pat’s heart is after being broken.” 

“Well, we’ll wait a little longer, Barney,” said Mr. 
Martindale. “He may turn up yet.” 

The day wore itself out and Samba had not returned. 
Mr. Martindale and Jack spent part of the time in shoot- 
ing, adding a goodly number of wild duck, a river-hog 
and an antelope to the larder. Part of the time they 
watched the men fishing, or rather, harpooning, for they 
caught the fish by dexterous casts of their light spears. 
Towards evening Mr. Martindale became seriously 
anxious, and a little testy. 

“I’m afraid a crocodile has made a meal of him, after 
all,” he said. “I don’t reckon he’d any reason for leaving 
us ; he got good victuals.” 

“And a good knife. Uncle. Perhaps he has gone to find 
his father.” 

“No, I don’t bank on that. Too far for a young boy to 
go alone, through the forest, too, on foot. Anyway, 
he’s an ungrateful wretch to go without saying a word; 
I’ve always heard these blacks don’t measure up to the 
white people in their feelings.” 

Mr. Martindale delayed his departure until the middle 
of the next day in the hope that Samba would return, 
58 


SAMBA IS MISSING 


Then, however, he declared that he could wait no longer, 
and the party set off. 

Late in the afternoon of the next day they came to a 
spot where a gap occurred in the thick vegetation that 
lined the bank. Here, said Nando, they must land. 
Ilola, the principal village of the chief to whom they were 
bound, lay a short distance from the river, and the way to 
it lay through the clear space between two forest belts. 
A quarter of an hour’s walking brought them to the vil- 
lage, a cluster of tent-shaped grass huts almost hidden 
in the bush. The settlement was surrounded by a stock- 
ade, and the plantations of banana, maize and ground- 
nuts showed signs of careful cultivation. 

Nando went alone to interview the chief, bearing a 
present of cloth, and a small copper token which Mr. 
Martindale had received from his friend Barnard. The 
chief would recognize it as the replica of one given to 
him. Nando returned in an hour’s time, troubled in coun- 
tenance. Imbono, the chief, he said, had refused to meet 
the white man, or to have any dealings with him. He well 
remembered the white man who had cured his son and 
given him the token two years before; had they not be- 
come blood brothers? But since then many things had 
happened. Dark stories had reached his ears of the 
terrible consequences that followed the coming of the 
white man. One of his young men — his name was Faraji 
— who had joined a party of traders carrying copper down 
the Congo, had just come back with terrible tales of what 
he himself had seen. When Imbono was a boy he had 
lived in terror of the white-robed men from the East.^ 
There had been a great white-robed chief named Tippu 
Tib, who sent his fighting men far and wide to collect 
ivory and slaves. These men knew no pity ; they carried 


1 Arabs. 


59 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


destruction wherever they went, tearing children from 
parents, husbands from wives, chaining them together, 
beating them with cruel whips, strewing the land with the 
corpses of slaves exhausted by long marching or slain 
because they were ill or weak. 

But terrible as were the warriors of Tippu Tib, surely 
the servants of the Great White ChieT were more terrible 
still ; for it often happened that the slave-hunters, having 
come once, came not again; like a fierce tempest they 
passed ; but as, when a storm has devastated a forest, new 
trees grow and flourish in the room of the old, so when a 
village had been robbed of its youth, their places were in 
course of time filled by other boys and girls. And 
even when the slave-hunters came, some villagers would 
escape, and hide in dens or among the forest trees until 
the danger had passed. But the servants of the Great 
White Chief were like a blight settling for ever on the 
land. They came and stayed; none could escape them; 
none was spared, young or old. Imbono feared the white 
man; he prayed him to go in peace; the men of Ilola 
were peaceable, and sought not to make enemies, but 
they had bows and arrows, and long shields, and heavy- 
shafted spears, and if need be they would defend them- 
selves against the stranger. 

‘T guess this is kind of awkward,’’ said Mr. Martindale, 
when Nando had finished his report. “You can’t trade 
with a man who won’t see you. Did you explain that we 
don’t belong to the Great White Chief, Nando?” 

“Me say all dat, sah ; chief shake his head.” 

“I suppose you told him that our men are not armed ?” 

“No, sah ; me forgot dat, dat am de troof.” 

“Well, go back; tell the chief that I’m a friend and 
want to see him. Say that I’ll come into the village alone, 


1 Leopold II, Sovereign of the Congo Free State and King 
of the Belgians. 


6o 


SAMBA IS MISSING 


or with Mr. Jack, and we’ll leave our guns behind us. 
Tell him the white man he saw two years ago said he was 
a very fine fellow, and I’ll trust myself unarmed among 
his people, bows and arrows and spears and all.” 

Nando went away, and after another hour returned 
and said that Imbono, after much persuasion, had agreed 
to receive the white man because he was a friend of his 
blood brother. Leaving their rifles and revolvers in Bar- 
ney’s charge, Mr. Martindale and Jack accompanied 
Nando to the village. The single entrance to the stockade 
was guarded by a throng of tall warriors with curiously- 
painted skins, and armed with the weapons Nando had 
described, carrying, in addition, knives with long, leaf- 
shaped blades. 

“They ain’t the daisiest of beauties,” said Mr. Martin- 
dale, as he passed them. 

“Ugly fellows in a scrimmage,” said Jack. 

They went on past the first huts, stared at by knots of 
the villagers, until they came to the chief’s dwelling in the 
center of the settlement. Imbono was a tall, well-set-up, 
handsome negro, standing half a head taller than the 
men about him. He received the strangers with grave 
courtesy, offered them a cup of palm wine, and motioned 
them to two low, carved stools, seating himself on a 
third. 

Through Nando Mr. Martindale explained his busi- 
ness, dwelling on the friendly relations which had existed 
between the chief and the white man, and assuring him of 
his peaceable intentions and of his absolute independence 
of the servants of the Great White Chief. Imbono list- 
ened in silence, and made a long reply, repeating what 
he had already said through Nando. Suddenly he turned 
to the young man at his side, whom he called Faraji, 
and bade him tell the white man what he had seen. 

6i 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


*‘Ongoho! OngohoT ^ exclaimed the other men. Faraji 
stepped forward and told his story, with a volubility that 
outran Nando’s powers as an interpreter, and at the same 
time with a seriousness that impressed his hearers. 

‘T come from Mpatu,” he said. “It is not my village ; 
my village is Ilola. I passed through Mpatu on my way 
home. It is no longer a village. Why? The servants 
of the Great White Chief had come up the river. They 
told the people that the lords of the world, the sons of 
Heaven, had given all the land to the Great White Chief. 
Mpatu belonged no more to the chief Lualu ; it belonged 
to the Great White Chief. But the Great White Chief 
was a good chief; he would be a father to his people. 
Would he take their huts? their gardens? their fowls? 
their children ? No, he was a good chief. Everything that 
was theirs should be left to them; and the Great White 
Chief would keep peace in the land, and men should live 
together as brothers. Only one thing the Great White 
Chief required of them. In the forest grew a vine that 
yielded a milky sap which hardened when mixed with 
acid from a plant growing near. This stuff would be of 
use to the Great White Chief, and he wished them to col- 
lect it for him, and bring to his servants every fourteenth 
day so many basketfuls of it. Every man of Mpatu 
must bring his share. And they said, too, that the Great 
White Chief was just, for all this rubber they collected 
he would pay, in brass rods, or cloth, or salt ; and seeing 
the Great White Chief was so kind and good, only a bad 
man would fail in this task set him, and such bad men 
must bring his share. And they said, too, that the Great 
Chief would be left in Mpatu to instruct the people as to 
the furnishing of the rubber ; and these kind teachers the 
men of Mpatu would surely provide with food and shelter. 


1 Yes, do so. 


62 


SAMBA IS MISSING 


'‘The men of Mpatu laughed at first. Well they knew 
the vine. Was there not enough of it and to spare in the 
forest? How easily they could collect what was de- 
manded ! How soon would they become rich ! And they 
set the women and children to weaving new baskets for 
the rubber, and made ready a new and well-built hut for 
the men who were to teach them their duty to the Great 
White Chief. 

“But as time went on, woe came to Mpatu. The two 
servants of the Great White Chief were bad men, selfish, 
cruel. They stalked about the village as if it belonged to 
them; they seized the plumpest fowls, and the choicest 
fruits; they did with the people as they pleased; if any 
resisted they whipped him with a long whip of rhinoce- 
ros hide. 

“But the servants of the Great White Chief demanded 
still more. It was not only the rubber the men of Mpatu 
were bade to bring them, but so many goats, so many 
fowls, so many fish and cassava and bananas. How could 
they do it? The rubber vines near-by were soon ex- 
hausted. Every week they must go farther into the forest. 
They had not enough time now to hunt and fish for their 
own families. How supply the strangers, too? 

“Grief came to Mpatu! For long days there was no 
man in the village save the chief Lualu and the forest 
guards. The women cowered and crouched in their huts. 
No longer did they take pride in tidy homes and well- 
tended hair; no longer sing merrily at the streams, or 
croon lullabies to their babes ; all joy was gone from them. 

“Some of the men fled before the oppressors, and with 
their wives and children lived in the forest, eating roots 
and leaves. But even flight was vain, for the forest 
guards tracked them, hunted them down. Some they 
killed as soon as they found them; others they flogged, 
chained by the neck, and hauled to prison. There, they 

6 ^ 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


are now kept at work, carrying logs and firewood, clear- 
ing the bush, cutting up rubber, and there is a guard over 
them with a whip, which at a single blow can cut a strip 
from the body. 

“And now Mpatu is a waste. One day the rubber was 
again short; the soldiers came; they burned the huts; 
they killed men, women and children; yea, among the 
soldiers were man-eaters, and many of Mpatu’s children 
were devoured. Only a few escaped — they wander in 
the forest, who knows where? I tell what I have seen 
and heard.’^ 

When Faraji had finished his story, there was silence 
for a time. The chief seemed disposed to let the facts 
sink into the minds of the white men, and Mr. Martindale 
was at a loss for words. He could not defend the treat- 
ment of the people ; what could he say to convince Imbono 
that he was no friend of the white men who authorized 
or permitted such treatment? How could the negro dis- 
tinguish ? 

“ Ton my soul,’’ said the American in an aside to 
Jack, “I am ashamed of the color of my skin.” 

Then the chief began to speak. 

“The white man understands why I will have nothing 
to do with him — why I will not allow my people to trade 
with him. It may be true that you, O white man, are not 
as these others; you may be a friend to the black man, 
and believe that the black man can feel pain and grief; 
but did not the servants of the Great White Chief say 
that they were friends of the black man? Did they not 
say that the Great White Chief loved us and wished to 
do us good? We have seen the love of the Great White 
Chief; it is the love of the crocodile for the antelope; 
we would have none of it. Therefore, I say, O white man, 
though I bear you no ill will, you must go.” 

64 


SAMBA IS MISSING 


Courteously as the chief spoke, there was no mistak- 
ing his firmness. 

“We must go and take stock of this,” said Mr. Martin- 
dale. “It licks me at present. Jack, and that’s a hard 
thing for an American to say. Come right away.” 

They took ceremonious leave of the chief and were es- 
corted to their camp at the edge of the stream. 

“What’s to be done, my boy?” said Mr. Martindale. 
“We can’t find the gold without the chief’s help, unless 
we go prospecting at large : we might do that for weeks 
without success, and make Imbono an open enemy into 
the bargain. We can’t fight him, and I don’t want to 
fight him. After what we’ve seen and heard I won’t be 
responsible for shedding blood; seems to me the white 
man has done enough of that already on the Congo. 

^ This is a facer. Jack.” 

“Never say die, Uncle. It’s getting late; I vote we 
sleep on it. We may see a way out of the difficulty in the 
morning.” 


CHAPTER VII 


t 

■i 

BLOOD BROTHERS 

But in the morning the situation appeared only more 
grave. Provisions were threatening to run short. Hith- 
erto there had been no difficulty in procuring food from 
the natives met en route, and Mr. Martindale’s party had 
carried little more than what was necessary for the white 
men. But now they were come to a less populous part 
of the country; Imbono’s villages were the only settle- 
ments for many miles around ; and unless Imbono relaxed 
the rigor of his boycott, Mr. Martindale’s paddlers would 
soon be in want. 

Mr. Martindale was talking matters over with Jack, 
when, from the slight eminence on which the camp was 
pitched, they saw a canoe, manned by six paddlers, pass 
up the stream. Jack took a look at the craft through 
his field-glass. 

“It’s Imbono, Uncle,” he said ; “I wonder what he’s up 
to.” 

He followed the progress of the canoe for some dis- 
tance through the glass; then, happening to look ahead, 
his eye was caught by a herd of eight or nine hippopotami 
disporting themselves on a reedy flat by the river-bank. 

“What do you say. Uncle? Shall we go and get some 
hippo meat? It will relieve the drain on our stock, and 
Nando told me the men are rather fond of it.” 

“We’ll go right away. Jack; we must keep the larder 
full, at any rate. I suppose we shall have to stalk the 
beasts.” 


66 


BLOOD BROTHERS 


‘T don’t think so, Uncle. Those we saw as we came 
up seemed pretty bold; they’ve such tough hides that 
they’ve no reason to be much afraid of the native 
weapons.” 

“Well, we’ll paddle up to them and see how we get 
along.” 

A canoe was launched, and Mr. Martindale set off 
with Jack, Barney and the terrier, Nando and six of the 
men paddling. By the time they arrived opposite the 
feeding-ground, several ‘hippos had come out from 
the reeds for a bath in the shallows of the river, only their 
heads and backs showing above the water. The rest 
had moved off into the thicker reeds and were hidden 
from sight. 

“One will be enough for the present,” said Mr. Martin- 
dale. “Our fellows are great gluttons, but there’s enough 
meat in one of those beasts to last a couple of days ; and 
we don’t want it to go high !” 

“Let us both aim at the nearest,” suggested Jack. 
“Fire together. Uncle ; bet you I bag him.” 

“I guess I won’t take you, and betting’s a fool’s trick 
anyway. We’ll aim at the nearest, as you say. Are you 
ready ?” 

Two shots rang out as one. But apparently there had 
been a difference of opinion as to which of the animals 
was the nearest. One of them disappeared ; another, with 
a wild roar of pain and rage, plunged into the reeds; the 
rest sank below the surface. Nando, knowing the ways of 
hippopotami, began to paddle with frantic vigor, and set 
the canoe going at a rapid pace down stream, much to 
the indignation of Pat, who stood with his forefeet on 
the side of the canoe, barking fiercely. Half a minute later 
a head appeared above the surface, some fifty yards be- 
hind ; then another and another : but the beasts seemed to 
have recovered from the alarm, for after a long, cow- 

67 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


like stare at the receding canoe, they turned and swam 
ashore, to rejoin their comrades in the reeds. 

“Easy, all !” said Mr. Martindale. “We’ll give them a 
quarter of an hour to settle down, then we’ll go back. 
What about your bet, eh. Jack?” 

“It’s your hippo. Uncle, no doubt of that,” said Jack 
with a rueful smile. “An awful fluke, though ; you didn’t 
hit once to my twice coming up stream.” 

“A fluke, was it ? I kind o’ notice that when you young 
fellows make a good shot or pull off a good stroke at 
billiards or anything else, it’s real good play; whereas 
an old boy like me can only do anything decent by a 
fluke.” 

“Well, you’ve lost him anyway. The hippo hasn’t 
come up.” 

“Too cock-sure, my boy; he’s only just below the sur- 
face.” 

The beast, mortally wounded by Mr. Martindale’s rifle, 
was lying in shallow water. Pat could no longer restrain 
himself. He leaped overboard and swam toward the 
hippo, barking with excitement, and becoming frantic 
when he found that it was just out of his reach. In his 
eagerness to attack the animal he even made an attempt 
to dive, so comical that all on board the canoe were con- 
vulsed with laughter. Being paddled to the spot, Mr. 
Martindale found that the beast was quite dead. 

“Now, what are we to do with him?” said Mr. Martin- 
dale. “Shall we go back and send down a party to cut 
him up?” 

“No, no, sah,” said Nando instantly. “Tie rope; pull, 
pull ; hippo he come ’long all behind.” 

“Tow him, eh? Very well. I allow that will save 
time.” 

A rope was fastened firmly around the beast’s neck 
and jaws; the other end was fixed to the canoe; and the 
68 


BLOOD BROTHERS 


men began to paddle down stream, towing the hippo. The 
tendency of the animal being to sink, the canoe seemed to 
Jack to be dangerously low in the water at the stern. But 
they had only a part of the usual complement of men on 
board and the paddlers were among the most skilful on 
the Congo. They had gone but a few strokes when Jack, 
glancing back, caught sight of Imbono’s canoe returning. 
Like Mr. Martindale's, it was keeping fairly close to the 
bank. All at once a great shout of alarm broke from the 
chiefs paddlers; their easy swing was quickened to des- 
perate exertion, and they pulled out violently towards 
the middle of the stream. 

“By Jove ! Uncle, a hippo^s after them,” cried Jack. 

Just astern of the chief’s canoe, between it and the 
shore, a huge hippopotamus with jaws distended, showing 
his gleaming tusks, was swimming along in pursuit. For 
a little he gained, and Jack’s pulse beat more quickly with 
excitement as he saw that the enraged beast was not more 
than half a dozen yards from the canoe. But the gap 
widened as soon as the six strong paddlers had settled 
down to their quickened stroke. 

Imbono, sitting in the stern, had caught sight of the 
white men as his canoe cut for a few moments across the 
current, and with the natural vanity of the negro he be- 
gan to show off. At a word from him, one of the crew 
dropped his paddle, and, catching up a spear, hurled it at 
the pursuing hippo. There was a hoarse bellow from the 
animal and a wild cheer from the men; the shaft of the 
spear was seen standing almost perpendicularly above the 
hippo’s shoulder. With fierce exertion the beast increased 
his pace, and the gap momentarily diminished; but the 
negro resumed his paddle, and again the canoe drew 
away. 

As it came almost level with the towed hippo at a con- 
siderable distance towards midstream, Imbono ordered 

- - 69 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


the same manoeuver to be repeated. But fortune doubly 
befriended the pursuing animal. Just as the negro was 
poising his spear, a submerged tree stopped the canoe 
with a sudden jerk; the man lost his balance and fell 
overboard ; half of the crew followed him into the 
water ; the rest tumbled over one another into the bottom 
of the canoe. Imbono had been thrown backward as the 
vessel struck the snag; he had barely time to rise and 
plunge into the water when there was a hideous crackling 
sound; the stern of the canoe was caught between the 
hippo^s gaping jaws and crunched to splinters. 

The consequences of the chief’s temerity would have 
been amusing, but for his manifest danger. The negroes 
were swimming in all directions, keeping as much as 
possible under water so as to escape the eyes of the hippo. 
Imbono, an older man than the rest, was not so expert a 
swimmer, and Jack saw with concern that the hippo, 
leaving the sinking canoe, was making straight for the 
chief. 

A hippopotamus may be distanced by a canoe, but not 
by a swimming man. Imbono did not look behind, but 
seemed to know instinctively that death was within a few 
yards of him, and he struck out more and more des- 
perately for the bank. 

At the moment when the canoe struck the snag. Jack 
had seized his rifle; but after the catastrophe, canoe, 
hippo, and swimming natives were so intermingled that 
he could not venture a shot at the beast without the risk 
of hitting a man. The hippo’s huge body provided a 
target sufficiently broad, indeed, but Jack knew that to 
strike it anywhere save at a vital spot would merely add 
to the beast’s rage and make it doubly formidable to the 
men in the water. When he saw the plight of the chief, 
however, the great head, now only a couple of yards be- 
hind him, the jaws already opening, disclosing the vast red 
70 


BLOOD BROTHERS 


* 


chasm flanked by gleaming tusks and molars; when Jack 
saw Imbono thus in the very article of peril, he could no 
longer hesitate. The canoe was already at rest. Bid- 
ding Nando keep it steady, Jack raised his rifle to his 
shoulder and took careful aim. 

The chief was gasping for breath after a vain attempt 
to dodge the beast by diving, the horrid jaws were just 
about to snap, when a shot rang out. A squealing grunt 
came from the closing gullet; the uncouth actions of the 
beast ceased, and he began to sink slowly and silently 
beneath the surface. 

‘‘Ai ejaculated Mr. Martindale. 'That makes up for 
your miss. Jack.” 

“Oka mdr^ shouted the negroes. Imbono’s men had 
gained the bank, but the chief himself, overcome more 
by his fright than by his exertions, seemed unable to swim 
any farther. 

“Quick, haul him in. Jack,” said Mr. Martindale. 
“There may be a crocodile after him next!” 

A few strokes of the paddles brought the canoe within 
reach of the chief. Laughing heartily— the negro’s 
laugh is always very near the surface — Nando and a com- 
rade hoisted Imbono into the canoe. 

“Me tell Imbono he ought to die of shame,” said Nando 
gravely. 

“What on earth for?” asked Mr. Martindale. 

“What for, sah I Has he not made big puddle in mas- 
sa’s canoe? He plenty much wet, sah.” 

“Well, he couldn’t help that. Tell him we’re glad he 
came off so well. You need not say anything about the 
puddle.” 

But Nando had his own views as to the proper thing 
to do. As he spoke, the chief glanced at the pool of water 


^ Bully for you ! 


71 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


that had flowed from his body, and replied in a tone that 
was clearly apologetic. 

''He say he die of shame him so wet, sah,’' said 
Nando. "Him no do it no more. Say he praise de young 
Inglesa for shooting de hippo ; say he gib massa de hippo 
and manioc and bananas and anyfing whatever dat massa 
like. Say he want massa and young massa to be blood 
brudders. Me say berrah good; tell him oughter had 
sense before.’’ 

"That’s all right. We’ll accept supplies with pleasure, 
and pay him for them. The hippo is Mr. Jack’s already, 
of course. As for becoming his blood brothers, I don’t 
just know right off what that means, but if it will please 
him and doesn’t mean any nastiness, we’ll think it over.” 

The canoe, towing Mr. Martindale’s hippo, was rapidly 
paddled down stream to the encampment, the second beast 
being left to drift slowly down the river until in the 
course of some hours it should finally rise to the surface. 
On landing, the chief renewed his protestations of grati- 
tude, then went off to the village, to polish himself up, 
said Nando, and replace his ruined headdress, a curious 
structure of cloth and feathers stuck on to the chignon 
into which his hair was gathered. Mr. Martindale sent 
back another canoe to find and tow down the dead hippo. 
When it was hauled up on the low, sandy bank. Jack and 
his uncle went down to examine it. 

"You said I missed. Uncle,” cried Jack. "What do you 
make of this?” 

He pointed to a furrow ploughed across the full breadth 
of the beast’s forehead. 

"Nothing but a bullet did that, I know. My shot must 
have hit him, but didn’t enter the skull. I suppose he hid 
in the reeds, and vented his fury on the chief. He hap- 
pened to have a harder skull than your hippo. Uncle; 
you see it was not a fluke, after all.” 

72 


BLOOD BROTHERS 


Mr. Martindale slowly cut and lighted a cigar. Not 
until he had watched a big cloud of smoke float across 
the river did he speak. Then he said quietly: 

“Just so!’’ 

Somehow Jack felt that he had not had the better of 
the argument. 

Before the sun went down, a group of men came from 
lola, staggering under loads of grain and fruit, a quan- 
tity large enough to supply the camp for several days. 
That night the men had a royal feast, consuming so many 
hippo steaks that Barney professed himself indignant. 

“Bedad! ’tis greedy scoundhrels they are,” he said. 
“Whenever me mither gave us bhoys Irish stew— and it 
was not often, ye may be sure, meat being the price it 
was — ’twas one tiny morsel uv mutton, and a powerful 
lot of murphies ; she said too much meat would spoil our 
complexion and ruin our tempers. And begorra! isn’t 
it mesilf that proves it !” 

Mr. Martindale laughed at Barney’s logic. 

“I’m not afraid of the niggers’ complexions or their 
tempers,” he said ; “I only hope they won’t keep up that 
hullabaloo all night and spoil our sleep.^’ 

The men were indeed very uproarious, and remained 
around their fires for the greater part of the night, re- 
counting for the hundredth time the exciting events of the 
day, and composing on the spot songs in praise of the 
young white man whose fire-stick had slain the terror 
of the river. One of these songs seemed especially to 
strike their fancy, and it remained a favorite for many 
days. It ran somewhat thus : 

Happy Imbono ! 

Oh ! oh I Imbono ! ' 

Who saved Imbono! 

The good stranger ! 


73 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


The young stranger! 

The brave stranger! 

Good Jacko! 

Young Jacko ! 

Brave Jacko! 

He came to Ilola ! 

Happy Ilola! 

Lucky Ilola! 

He saved Imbono! 

From five hippos ! 

From ten hippos ! 

Lucky Imbono! 

Happy Imbono ! 

Oh! oh! Imbono! 

Next morning, as soon as it was light, Imbono came 
to pay a visit of ceremony. He had got himself up most 
elaborately for the occasion. A strip of yellow cotton 
was wound about his waist. His arms were covered with 
polished brass rings, and copper rings weighing at least 
ten pounds each encircled his wrists and ankles. A new 
headdress decked his hair; and he must have kept his 
barber busy half the night in arranging his topknot and 
painting his face with red cass wood and white clay. 
Pat by no means approved of the change, and barked at 
him furiously. 

“Whisht, ye spalpeen !” said Barney, calling at the ex- 
cited dog. “Sure ’tis only his Sunday clothes !’' 

Surrounded by a group of his young men, who were 
again loaded with offerings of food, the chief began a 
long speech, which was by no means abridged in Nando’s 
translation. He related the incident of the previous day, 
omitting none of the most insignificant details, account- 
ing, as it appeared, for every tooth in the jaws of the huge 
animal from which he had been saved. He went on to 
say that in gratitude to the white man he had changed his 
mind. No longer would he withhold food; his young 

74 


BLOOD BROTHERS 


men even now had their hands full of the best products 
of Ilola. No longer would he refuse his friendship; he 
would even show the white man the place where the yel- 
low metal was to be found — on one condition, that the 
white man would become his blood brother. Imbono and 
the white men would then be friends for ever. 

“Well, I’ll be very glad to be friends with the chief,” 
said Mr. Martindale, “and I’m right down obliged to him 
for agreeing to show me the location of the gold. And 
what’s this blood-brother business anyway ? I don’t agree 
to that without knowing it, you bet.” 

“Me tell all ’bout it, sah. Imbono hab got knife; he 
come scratch scratch massa him arm ; den blood come, 
just little tiny drop, oh, yes ! Den Imbono he lick massa 
him blood. Massa he hab got knife too ; he scratch Im- 
bono him arm all same, lick Imbono him blood. Me fink 
massa not like black man him blood — not berrah berrah 
much. Den massa gib Imbono little tiny present — knife, 
like knife Samba stole from Nando; Imbono gib massa 
fowl, or brass ring, or anything massa like. Den massa 
and Imbono de be blood brudder, be friends for eber 
and eber, amen.” 

“Well, I guess the blood business sounds rather dis- 
gusting. What do you think. Jack?” 

Jack made a grimace. 

“Couldn’t we leave the licking all to him. Uncle?” 

Here Nando broke in. 

“Me fink massa not like black blood. All same. I 
show massa de way. Massa hold Imbono him arm tight, 
berrah tight, pretend to lick, get little drop of blood on 
hand ; dat nuff ; Imbono pleased.” 

“If he’s satisfied with that. I’m willing, so fire away.” 

The chief beamed when he learned that the white man 
had given his consent. The ceremony was quickly per- 
formed. 


75 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Then Imbono handed them each a copper ring, and re- 
ceived in return a pinch of salt from Mr. Martindale and 
a lucifer match from Jack, Nando assuring them that 
no more acceptable presents could have been thought of. 
Imbono recited a sort of chant, which was explained to 
mean that he, his sons, his friends, the men of Ilola, 
from that time forth and for ever more would be the true 
friends of the white men ; everything he had was theirs. 
With a suitable reply from Mr. Martindale and Jack, the 
ceremony ended. 

Jack noticed when the chief had gone that Nando’s 
face wore a somewhat woebegone look. 

“What’s the matter, Nando?” he asked. 

“Nando berrah sick, sah. Imbono hab got present, 
massa hab got present, little massa hab got present all 
same; Nando hab got no present, no nuffin. Dat make 
Nando sick. Samba hab got Nando him knife: what for 
Nando no hab nuffin at all?” 

“Seems to me he wants a commission on the transac- . 
tion,” said Mr. Martindale with a smile. “Give him 
something. Jack; he’s not a bad sort.” 

“I’ve got a lucky sixpence. Uncle; he can string that 
round his neck. Here you are, Nando.” 

The negro took the coin with delight. 

“Bolotsi o!” he exclaimed. “Nando no sick no more. 
Him plenty comfy inside. All jolly nice now, sah; oh 
yes !” 


76 


CHAPTER VIII 


JACK IN COMMAND 

“WeVe come out of that bother sooner than I ex- 
pected,” said Mr. Martindale, when the chief had gone. 
‘T only hope our new brother won’t carry his affection 
too far. If he keeps piling in food in this way our fellows 
will wax fat and kick.” 

“You’ll have to give him a hint, Uncle. Proverbs are 
mostly old-fashioned rubbish, but there’s one that would 
suit him : ‘Enough is as good as a feast.’ ” 

“Which no nigger would believe. Now, I wonder when 
he will take us to find this ore. The sooner the better, 
although I calculate he doesn’t know the value of time.” 

Imbono returned in the course of the afternoon and 
said that he would be ready to conduct the white men to 
the gold region next day. But he stipulated that only 
his new brothers should accompany him. To this con- 
dition no one objected but Nando, who appeared to regard 
it as a personal slight. 

“Berrah well, berrah well,” he said, his tongue suggest- 
ing that he washed his hands of the business. “Nando 
no go, massa no can say nuffin to Imbono. Berrah well ; 
all same.” 

Immediately after breakfast next morning the two 
set off in Imbono’s company. Jack carried a prospec- 
tor’s pan for washing the soil, Mr. Martindale having 
declared that he didn’t expect to find nuggets lying 
around. They also carried enough food for the day. 
Imbono struck off due west from the village : then, when 
77 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


well out of sight, he made a detour, and, passing through 
a couple of miles of dense forest, entered a broken, hilly 
country, which to Mr. Martindale’s experienced eye 
showed many traces of volcanic disturbance. At last, 
forcing their way through a belt of tangled copse, with 
many scratches from prickly sprays, they came upon a 
deep gully, at the bottom of which ran a stream of 
brownish water now some twenty feet in breadth. That 
it was much broader at certain seasons was shown by the 
wide edging of sand and pebbles at each side. 

The chief came to a halt at the edge of the gully, and, 
pointing up and down the stream, said something in his 
own language. Mr. Martindale nodded his head, but 
said to Jack: 

^T suppose he means we’re right there. Why on earth 
could not he let Nando come and do the translating?” 

‘‘Show him your watch, Uncle!” 

At the sight of the watch Imbono nodded his head 
rapidly and ejaculated what was clearly an affirmative. 
Then he led the way down the rocky side of the gully, 
the others scrambling after him. On reaching the sandy 
strand Mr. Martindale bent down and eagerly examined 
it. Taking some of the sand and pebbles in his hand, Mr. 
Martindale stuck a magnifying-glass in his eye and picked 
them over carefully. 

“Looks promising, Jack,” he said, with the enthusiasm 
of an old miner. “There are little granules of quartz 
mixed up with the sand, and a particle or two of iron. 
But that don’t prove there’s gold. We’ll just try a little 
experiment.” 

He emptied a few handfuls of the soil into the pan, 
filled it with water from the stream, and moved 
it to and fro so as to give the water a concentric 
motion. Jack and the chief watching him with equal in- 
terest. Every now and then Mr. Martindale would cant 

78 


JACK IN COMMAND 


ofY a little of the water, which carried off some of the 
lighter sand with it. 

“What you may call a process of elimination or reduc- 
tion,’’ he said. 

“Reductio ad absurdum. Uncle?” 

“I hope not. I guess you’re smartening up. Jack.” 

“Call it survival of the fittest then.” 

“Of the thickest. I’d say. This washing carries off the 
useless light sand, and leaves the heavy stuff behind, and 
it’s in that we’ll find gold, if at all.” 

After nearly half an hour’s patient manipulation of the 
pan there was left in the bottom a blackish powder and 
some coarse grains of quartz, with just enough water to 
cover them. 

“Look at that, my boy,” said Mr. Martindale. “First 
time you’ve seen anything of that sort, I guess.” 

“But where’s the gold. Uncle?” 

“That’s what remains to be seen — perhaps. Keep your 
eye on that groove as I tilt the pan round. The black 
stuff is iron stone; you needn’t trouble about that. See 
if it leaves anything else.” 

He gently tilted the pan so that the water slowly flowed 
round the groove, carrying with it the quartz grains and 
the powder. Jack watched narrowly. After the contents 
of the pan had made the circuit two or three times he 
suddenly exclaimed: 

“There’s a sort of a glitter left behind the powder. 
Uncle.” 

“I reckon that’s enough,” said Mr. Martindale, setting 
down the pan. “We’ve hit it. Jack.” 

Jack could not refrain from giving a cheer. The chief, 
who had but half approved the proceedings at the begin- 
ning, caught the infection of the lad’s enthusiasm, and 
snapped his fingers and slapped his thighs vigorously. 

79 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


'‘We’ll have another look higher up,” said Mr. Martin- 
dale. “ ‘One swallow don’t make a summer’ — another 
piece of what you call antiquated rubbish, Jack. There’s 
gold here, that’s certain: but I don’t know whether it’s 
rich enough to be worth working.” 

They walked for half a mile up the stream, and Mr. 
Martindale went through the same process with the soil 
there. He was once again rewarded. This time, how- 
ever, the trace of the gold was more distinct. 

“Jack, my boy,” he said, “there’s a small fortune in 
the bed of the stream alone. But I’m not satisfied yet. 
It’s up to us now to discover the mother lode. To judge 
by the size of the stream, it can’t be far off. The bother- 
ation is that we can’t talk to the chief, and I say it’s most 
unbrotherly to refuse us the advantage of an interpreter.’^ 

“Well, we’ve plenty of time. Uncle. I vote we have our 
lunch and then go on again.” 

They sat down on boulders at the edge of the river 
and ate the manioc cakes and bananas with which Barney 
had provided them. Imbono seemed pleased when he 
was invited to share their lunch. Going into the forest, 
he returned with a large leaf which he shaped like a cup, 
and in this he brought water from the stream for the 
white men. 

After lunch they followed up the stream. At intervals 
Mr. Martindale stopped to test the gravel, and found al- 
ways some trace of gold, now slight, now plentiful. 
Some three miles up they came to a confluence. The 
stream was joined by a smaller, swifter one, which evi- 
dently took its rise in the steep, hilly country now becom- 
ing visible through the trees. 

“We’ll try this. Jack.” 

“Why?” 

“Because the bed’s more gravelly than the other. I 
8o 


JACK IN COMMAND 


guess the big stream comes out of the forest somewhere ; 
the other will suit our book best/’ 

They found their progress becoming more and more 
difficult. The ground was more rocky, the sides of the 
gully were steeper, and the edging of the dry gravel 
diminished until by and by it disappeared altogether, and 
the prospectors had to take off their boots and socks 
and wade. There were trees and bushes here and there 
on the side and at the top of the gully, but the vegeta- 
tion became more and more scanty as they ascended. 
Presently the sound of falling water struck upon their 
ears, and a sudden turn of the stream brought them into 
full view of the cataract. At this point the gully had 
widened out, and the water fell over a broad, smooth 
ledge of rock, dashing on the stones after a descent of 
some twenty-five feet. 

“That’s fine!” exclaimed Jack, halting to watch the 
cascade sparkling in the sunlight, and the brownish 
white foam eddying at the foot. 

“Grand!” assented Mr. Martindale. “There’s enough 
water-power there to save many a thousand dollars’ 
worth of machinery.” 

“I was thinking of the scenery, not machinery. Uncle,” 
said Jack with a laugh. 

“Eh! What! Scenery! Why, I’ve got a lot finer 
waterfall than that on my dining-room wall. It ain’t 
Niagara one way or t’other, but it’ll do a lot of mill 
grinding all the same. Now, Jack, you’re younger than 
I am. I want to see what there is by those rocks ten 
feet away from the bottom of the fall. Strip, my boy; 
a bath will do you a power of good, a hot day like this ; 
and there are no crocodiles here to) make you feel 
jumpy.” 

Jack stripped and was soon waist-deep in the water. 
Reaching the spot his uncle had indicated, he stopped 

8i 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


and found that he could just touch the bottom without 
immersing himself. The water was too frothy for the 
bottom to be seen; he groped along it with his hands, 
bringing up every now and then a small fragment of 
quartz or handful of gravel which Mr. Martindale, after 
inspecting it from a distance, told him to throw in again. 

At last, when he was getting somewhat tired of this 
apparently useless performance, he brought up a handful 
of stones not to his eyes differing from what he had 
seen for the last half-hour. He spread them out for 
his uncle, now only two or three yards away, to ex- 
amine. 

^‘T guess you can put on your clothes, now,” said 
Mr, Martindale. “Why, hang it, man! Why, you’ve 
not thrown it away!” 

Jack had pitched the stones back into the water. 

“I thought you’d done, Uncle,” he said. 

“So I have, and you’re done, too— done brown. D’you 
know you’ve thrown away a nugget worth I don’t know 
how many dollars?” 

“You should have told me what you were after,” said 
Jack, somewhat nettled. “I couldn’t be expected to 
know you were hunting for nuggets.” 

“No, you couldn’t be expected: and that’s just ex- 
actly what I brought you over to America for. When 
you’ve had the kind of smartening up I mean you to 
have, you won’t talk about what’s expected or not ex- 
pected ; you’ll just figure it out that there’s some reason 
in everything, and you’ll use your own share of reason 
accordingly.” 

“All right. Uncle,” replied Jack good-humoredly. “I 
might have put two and two together, perhaps. At 
school, you see, they liked us to do as we were told 
without arguing. ‘Theirs not to reason why’ — ^you know. 
Shall I fish for that nugget?” 

82 


JACK IN COMMAND 


'‘Not worth while. A few dollars more or less are 
neither here nor there. I know what I want to know, 
and now I think we’d better be going. Get your clothes 
on. Our brother Imbono has several times anxiously 
pointed to the sun. He evidently isn’t comfortable at 
the idea of being benighted in these regions.” 

Screwing some of the sifted gravel into a bag of 
leaves, Mr. Martindale signed to the chief that he was 
ready to return. They reached the camp just as the 
sun was setting. In honor of the recent discovery, Mr. 
Martindale invited the chief to supper, and gave him a 
regale which astonished him. To see the white man 
bring peaches out of a closed pot made Imbono open 
his eyes ; but the sensation of the evening was furnished 
by a bottle of soda water. When the stopper was loosed 
and the liquid spurted over, the chief shrank back in 
amazement, uttering a startled cry. Nando, not skilled 
in European politeness, guffawed uproariously. 

“Him say debbil water, sah. Yah! Yah!” 

Nothing would induce Imbono to drink the stuff. 
But he took kindly to tea, and, being prevailed upon to 
try a pinch of snuff, he laughed heartily when the 
paroxysm of sneezing was over, and asked for more. 

“Him say like laugh-cry dust plenty much,” Said 
Nando. 

When the chief had eaten his fill, Mr. Martindale, 
with considerable diplomacy, explained that the discov- 
ery of gold was of little use to him unless he could take 
men to the spot, and desired the withdrawal of the pro- 
hibition. Nando took a long time to convey this to 
Imbono, and Jack suspected that he was making some- 
what lavish promises in the nature of quid pro quo, 
Imbono at length agreed to the white man’s request, 
provided the workers he wished to take with him were 
not servants of the Great White Chief. He consented 
83 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


also to lead him back to the cataract next day, so that he 
might complete his search for the gold-bearing rocks. 

On this second journey Mr. Martindale and Jack were 
accompanied by two of their negroes with picks. On 
arriving at the spot, the men were set to break away por- 
tions of the rocky wall on the left of the cataract. 

“You see. Jack,” said Mr. Martindale, “the fact that 
we found gold in the stream shows that it is still being 
washed down by the water; otherwise it would have 
been swept away or buried long ago. The rock must 
be of a soft kind that offers comparatively little resistance 
to the water, and Fm rather inclined to think that not 
so very many years ago the cataract was a good deal 
farther forward than it is now. Well, the gold-bearing 
stratum must run right through the cataract, horizon- 
tally, I suspect. It may not be a broad one, but it will 
probably extend some distance on each side of the fall, 
and a few hours’ work ought to prove it.” 

As the rock fell away under the negroes’ picks, Mr. 
Martindale and Jack carefully washed samples of it. 
In less than an hour the glittering trail shone out clear 
in the wake of the granules of rock as they slid round 
the groove. 

“So much for the first part of our job,” said Mr. Mar- 
tindale, with a quiet sigh of satisfaction. “The next 
thing is to see if the gold extends above the cataract.” 

Under Imbono’s guidance the party made their way 
by a detour to the river-banks above the falls. After 
a search of some hours Mr. Martindale declared himself 
satisfied that the lode was confined to the rocks over 
which the water poured. 

“We can’t do much more for the present,” he said. 
“The next thing is to get machinery to work the ore. 
We’ll have to go back to Boma. We can probably get 
simple materials for working the alluvial deposits there, 

84 


JACK IN COMMAND 


but the machinery for crushing the ore must be got from 
Europe, and that’ll take time. We’ll pack up and start 
to-morrow.” 

But after breakfast next morning, when Mr. Martin- 
dale had lighted his morning cigar, he startled Jack by 
saying suddenly: 

“Say, Jack, how would you like to be left here with 
Barney and some of the men while I go back to Boma?’' 

“What a jolly lark!” said Jack, flushing with pleasure. 

“Humph! That’s a fool’s speech, or a school-boy’s, 
which often comes to the same thing. I’m not thinking 
of larks, or gulls, or geese, but of serious business.” 

“Sorry, Uncle. That’s only my way of saying I should 
like it immensely.” 

“I’ve been turning it over in the night. I want to make 
a man of you. Jack; I want to see if there’s any grit in 
you. There ought to be, if you’re your mother’s boy. 
Anyway, this will give you a chance. Things are this 
way: we’ve struck a fortune here. Well, I’m an old 
miner, and I don’t allow anybody to jump my claim. I 
don’t reckon any one is likely to jump it ; still, you never 
know. That fellow Elbel, now: he’s an official of the 
Belgian Company, and he knows what I’m here for. 
He might take it into his head to steal a march on me, 
and though I’ve got the mining monopoly for all this 
district, you bet that won’t be much of a protection of 
my claim all these miles from civilization. So it’s ad- 
visable to have a man on the spot, and it’s either you 
or I. You don’t know anything about mining ma- 
chinery, so I guess it’s no good sending you to Boma. 
Consequently, you must stay here.” 

“I’m jolly glad of the chance. Uncle. I’ll look after 
your claim.” 

“Spoiling for a fight, eh? But we mustn’t have any 
fighting. Mind you, all this is only speculation — fore- 

85 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


sight, prudence, call it what you like. I don’t calculate 
on any one’s trying to do me out of my rights. And if any 
one tries to jump my claim, it won’t do for you to make 
a fool of yourself by trying to oppose ’em by force. All 
you can do is to sit tight and keep an eye on things till 
I get back. I don’t know I’m doing right to leave you: 
you’re the only nephew I’ve got, and you can’t raise 
nephews as you raise pumpkins. But I thought it all 
out while you were snoring, and I’ve made up my mind 
to give it a trial. Patience and tact, that’s what you 
want. You’ve got ’em, or you haven’t. If you have, I 
reckon it’s all right: if you haven’t — ” 

“Your cigar has gone out, dear old man,” said Jack, 
laying his hand on his uncle’s. 

“Eh! What? So it has. I’ll try another. Well, 
that’s settled, eh? I’ll be as quick as I can. Jack: no 
doubt I’ll find a launch when I reach the Congo, or even 
before, if Elbel’s boss at Makua likes to make himself 
agreeable. But I’ve no doubt Elbel has colored up our 
little meeting in his report to headquarters. Anyhow, 
I should be right back in two months or so — not so very 
long, after all. I’ll forward some rifles and ammunition 
from the first station where I can get ’em: the sale of 
arms is prohibited in this State, of course ; but that isn’t 
the only law, by all accounts, that’s a dead letter here, 
and I don’t doubt a little palm-oil will help me to fix 
up all I want. You’ll have to teach the men how to 
use ’em, and remember, they’re only for self-defense in 
the last extremity. See?” 

“I’ll be careful. Uncle. It’s lucky we’ve a friend in 
Imbono. I think we’ll get along first-rate. Nando can 
do the interpreting until I learn something of the lan- 
guage.” 

“Jingo! I’d forgotten Nando. That’s a poser, Jack. 
I shall want him to pilot me down to Boma. I can’t 
86 


JACK IN COMMAND 


get along without an interpreter. That’s a nailer on our 
little scheme, my boy, for, of course, you can’t stay here 
without some one to pass your orders to the men.” 

Jack looked very crestfallen. The prospect of being 
left in charge was very delightful to him, and he had 
already been resolving to show himself worthy of his 
uncle’s trust. The thing he had regretted most in leaving 
Rugby was that he would never be in the sixth and a 
prepositor. He did not shrink from responsibility and 
it was hard to have his hopes of an independent com- 
mand dashed at the moment of opportunity. Suddenly 
an idea occurred to him. 

“Are you sure none of the other men knows enough 
English to serve my turn?” he said. 

“Nando said not a man jack of ’em knows it but him- 
self. I’ll call him up and ask him again.” 

Nando came up all smiles in answer to the call. 

“You told me that none of the men speaks English 
but yourself,” said Mr. Martindale. “Is that true?” 

“Too plenty much true, sah. Me speak troof all same, 
sah.” 

“That’s unfortunate. We’re going back to Boma. I 
wanted to leave Mr. Jack here, but I can’t do that unless 
he has some one to do the talking for him. Go and get 
the things packed up, Nando.” 

The negro departed with alacrity. But not five min- 
utes later he returned, accompanied by a negro a little 
shorter than himself, but otherwise showing a strong 
resemblance. Both were grinning broadly. 

' “My brudder, sah,” said Nando, patting the younger 
man on the shoulder. “He berrah fine chap. Him Le- 
poko. Speak Inglesa; berrah clever. Nando go with 
big massa, Lepoko stay with little massa; oh, yes! all 
too fine and jolly.” 


87 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


^'Lepoko speaks English, does he?” said Mr. Martin- 
dale. “Then you’re a liar, Nando!” 

“No, sah, me no tell Hes, not at all. Lepoko no speak 
Inglesa allers, sah. What for two speak Inglesa one 
time? Too much wise, massa no can hear what Nando 
say. Nando go, all same; muss hab some one can talk. 
Berrah well: den Lepoko hab go; can talk all right. 
He show massa what can do.” 

“One, two, free, forty, hundred, fousand,” began Le- 
poko glibly. “Ten little nigger boys. What de good 
of anyfink? Way down de Swannee ribber — ” 

“That’ll do, that’ll do!” cried Mr. Martindale, laugh- 
ing. “You’ve got your interpreter. Jack. Nando, get 
ready to start. Bring nine men with you; the rest will 
stay with Mr. Jack. The fellow was hankering after 
the fleshpots of Boma, I suppose,” he added when 
Nando had gone, “and that accounts for his sudden dis- 
covery of his brother’s eloquence — too jealous of his 
own importance to give it away before. Now, there’s 
Barney, Jack. I don’t know how he’ll take being left 
here.” 

Barney took it very well. When Mr. Martindale men- 
tioned that he would be absent for two months, he re- 
marked : 

“Bedad, sorr,” ne said, “I’ll be getting fat at last. 
Imbono sent another heap of manioc this morning, and 
seeing that I’ll have nothing whativer to do for two 
months, sure. I’ll be a different man entirely by the time 
you come back.” 

An hour later the shore was crowded with natives 
come to bid the white man farewell. Imbono was there 
with all the men of the village. At his final interview 
with Mr. Martindale he had promised faithfully to watch 
carefully over the welfare of his young blood brother; 
he would supply him and his men with food and defend 
him from wild beasts and aggressive black men, and his 
88 


JACK IN COMMAND ' ' 

villagers should at once set about building new huts for 
the party. 

“Remember, Jack, patience and tact. God bless you, 
my boy.” 

“Good-by, Uncle. Hope you'll have a pleasant jour- 
ney. And on the way down keep an eye lifting for 
Samba.” 

Then the ten natives struck the water with their pad- 
dles, the canoe glided down the stream, and as it dis- 
appeared round a bend of the river. Jack heard the men's 
voices uplifted in a new song composed for the occa- 
sion. 

“What are they singing, Lepoko ?” he asked of his new 
interpreter. 

“Me tell massa. ' 


“‘Down brown ribber. 
Broad brown ribber. 
White man go 
In canoe. 

Good-by, Ilola, 
Good-by, Imbono. 
Good-by, Jacko, 
Brave Jacko, 

Young Jacko, 

He save Imbono, 
Lucky Imbono; 
Down brown ribber 
White man go.^ ” 


89 


CHAPTER IX 


SAMBA MEETS THE LITTLE MEN 

Samba had cheerfully accompanied Mr. Martindale’s 
expedition in the confidence that one of its principal 
objects, if not indeed its main one, was the discovery of 
his parents. Nando had told him on the ruins of Ba- 
nonga, that the white man would help him in his search, 
and the white man had treated him so kindly that he be- 
lieved what Nando said. But as the days passed and 
the canoes went farther and farther up stream, miles 
away from Banonga, the boy began to be uneasy. More 
than once he reminded Nando of his promise, only to be 
put off with excuses : the white man was a very big chief, 
and such a trifling matter as the whereabouts of a black 
boy’s father and mother could not be expected to engage 
him until his own business was completed. 

Samba became more and more restless. He wished he 
could open the matter himself to the white men ; but the 
few words of English he had picked up from Jack and 
Barney were as useless to him as any school-boy’s French. 
Jack often wondered why there was so wistful a look 
upon the boy’s face as he followed him about, much as 
Pat followed Samba. He spoke to Nando about it, but 
Nando only laughed. Samba began to distrust Nando. 
What if the man’s assurances were false, and there had 
never been any intention of seeking his father? The 
white men had been kind to him; they gave him good 
food; he was pleased with the knife presented to him 
as a reward for his watchfulness ; but all these were small 


90 


SAMBA MEETS THE LITTLE MEN 


things beside the fact that his parents were lost to him. 
‘‘Had the white men no fathers?’’ he wondered. 

At length he came to a great resolution. If they 
would not help him, he must help himself. He would 
slip away one night and set off in search. He well knew 
that in cutting himself adrift from the expedition, many 
days’ journey from his old home, he was exchanging 
ease and plenty for certain hardship and many dangers, 
known and unknown. The forest in the neighborhood 
of Banonga was as a playground to him; but he could 
not know what awaited him in a country so remote as 
this. He had never been more than half a day’s journey 
from home, but he had heard of unfriendly tribes who 
might kill him, or, at best, keep him enslaved. And the 
white men of Bula Matadi — did not they sometimes seize 
black boys, and make them soldiers or serfs? Yet all 
these perils must be faced ; Samba loved his parents, and 
in his case love cast out fear. 

One morning, very early, when every one in the camp 
was occupied with the first duties of the day. Samba stole 
away. His own treasured knife was slung by a cord 
about his neck; he carried on his hip, negro-fashion, a 
discarded biscuit tin, which he had filled with food saved 
from his meals of the previous day; and Mr. Martin- 
dale’s knife dangled from his waist-cord. It was easy 
to slip away unseen; the camp was surrounded by trees, 
and in a minute he was out of sight. He guessed that 
an hour or two would pass before his absence was dis- 
covered, and then pursuit would be vain. 

But he had not gone far when he heard a joyous bark 
behind him, and Pat came bounding along, leaping up 
at him, looking up in his face, as if to say: “You are 
going a-hunting: I will come, too, and we will enjoy 
ourselves.” Samba stopped, and knelt down and put 
his arms about the dog’s neck. Should he take him? 

91 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


The temptation was great: Pat and he were stanch 
friends; they understood each other, and the dog would 
be excellent company in the forest. But Samba reflected. 
Pat did not belong to him, and he had never stolen any- 
thing in his life. The dog’s master had been good to 
him; it would be unkind to rob him. And Pat was a 
fighter; he was as brave as Samba himself, but a great 
deal more noisy and much less discreet. Samba knew 
the ways of the forest; it was wise to avoid the dan- 
gerous beasts, to match their stealth with stealth; Pat 
would attack them, and certainly come off worst. No, 
Pat must go back. So Samba patted him, rubbed his head 
on the dog’s rough coat, let Pat lick his face, and talked 
to him seriously. Then he got up and pointed towards 
the camp and clapped his hands, and when Pat showed 
a disposition still to follow him, he waved his arms and 
spoke to him again. Pat understood ; he halted . and 
watched the boy till he disappeared among the trees; 
then, giving one low whine, he trotted back with his 
tail sorrowfully lowered. 

Samba went on. He had come to the river, but he 
meant to avoid it now. The river wound this way and 
that; the journey overland would be shorter. He might 
be sought for along the bank ; but in the forest wilds he 
would at least be safe from pursuit, whatever other dan- 
gers he might encounter. At intervals along the bank, 
too, lay many villages: and Samba was less afraid of 
beasts than of men. So, choosing by the instinct which 
every forest man seems to possess, a direction that would 
lead towards his distant village, he went on with lithe 
and springy gait, humming an old song his grandfather 
Mirambo had taught him. 

His path at first led through a grassy country, with 
trees and bush in plenty, yet not so thick but that the 
sunlight came freely through the foliage, making many 

92 


SAMBA MEETS THE LITTLE MEN 


shining circles on the ground. But after about two hours 
the forest thickened; the sunlit spaces became fewer, 
the undergrowth more and more tangled. At midday he 
sat down by the edge of a trickling stream to eat his 
dinner of manioc, then went on again. The forest was 
now denser than anything to which he had been accus- 
tomed near Banonga, and he went more warily, his 
eyes keen to mark the tracks of animals, his ears alive to 
catch every sound. He noticed here the scratches of a 
leopard on a tree trunk, there the trampled undergrowth 
where an elephant had passed; but he saw no living 
creature save a few snakes and lizards, and once a hare 
that scurried across his path as he approached. He 
knew that in the forest it is night that brings danger. 

The forest became ever thicker, and as evening drew 
on it grew dark and chill. The ground was soft with 
layers of rotted foliage, the air heavy with the musty 
smell of vegetation in decay. Samba’s teeth chattered 
with the cold, and he could not help longing for Bar- 
ney’s cozy hut, and the warm companionship of the ter- 
rier. It was time to sleep. Could he venture to build 
a fire? The smoke might attract men, but he had seen 
no signs of human habitation. It would at any rate 
repel insects and beasts. Yes, he would build a fire. 

First he sought for a tree with a broad overhanging 
branch on which he could perch himself for the night. 
Then he made a wide circuit to assure himself that there 
were no enemies near at hand. In the course of his round 
he came to a narrow clearing where an outcrop of rock 
had prevented vegetation, and on the edges of this he 
found sufficient dry brushwood to make his fire. Collect- 
ing an armful, he carried it unerringly to his chosen tree, 
heaped it below the hospitable branch, and with his knife 
whittled a hard, dry stick to a sharp point. He selected 
then a square lump of wood, cut a little hollow in it, and, 
93 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


holding his pointed stick upright in the hollow, whirled 
it about rapidly beneath his hand, until first smoke and 
then a spark appeared. Having kindled his fire, he banked 
it down with damp moss he found hard by, so as to pre- 
vent it from blazing too high, and endangering his tree or 
attracting attention. Then he climbed up into the branch ; 
there he would be safest from prowling beasts. 

The acrid smoke rose from the fire beneath and 
enveloped him, but it gave him no discomfort, rather a 
feeling of “homeness’' and well-being ; such had been the 
accompaniment of sleep all his life long in his father’s hut 
at Banonga. Curled up on that low bough, he slept 
through the long hours— a dreamless sleep, undisturbed 
by the bark of hyenas, the squeal of monkeys, the wails 
of tiger-cats. 

When he awoke, he was stiff and cold. It was still 
dark, but even at midday the sun can but feebly light the 
thickest part of the Congo forest. The fire had gone out, 
but Samba did not venture to leave his perch until the 
glimmer of dawn, pale though it was, gave him light 
enough to see by. He was ravenously hungry, and did 
not spare the food left in his tin; many a time he had 
found food in the forest near his home, and now that he 
felt well and strong, no fear of starvation troubled him. 
Having finished his simple breakfast, he slung the empty 
can over his hip and set off on his journey. 

For two days he tramped on and on, plucking here the 
red berries of the phrynia, there the long crimson fruit 
of the amoma, with mushrooms in plenty. Nothing un- 
toward happened. In this part of the forest beasts ap- 
peared to be -few. Now and again he heard the rapping 
noise made by the soko, the gibber of monkeys, the 
squawk of parrots; once he stood behind a broad trunk 
and watched breathlessly, as a tiger-cat stalked a heedless 
94 


SAMBA MEETS THE LITTLE MEN 


rabbit ; each night he lighted his fire and found a service- 
able branch on which to rest 

But on the third day he was less happy. The farther 
he walked, the denser became the forest, the more difficult 
his path. Edible berries were rarer; fewer trees had 
fungi growing about their roots; he had to content him- 
self with forest beans in their brown, tough rind. When 
the evening was drawing on, he could find no dry fuel for 
a fire, and now, instead of seeking a branch for a sleeping 
place, he looked for a hollow tree, which would give him 
some shelter from the cold damp air of night. Having 
found his tree, he gathered a handful of moss, set fire 
to it from his stick and block, which he had carefully 
preserved, and threw the smoldering heap into the hollow 
to smoke out noxious insects, or a snake, if, perchance, 
one had made his home there. 

The fourth day was a repetition of the third, with more 
discomforts. Sometimes the tangled vines and creepers 
were so thick that he had to go round about to find a path. 
The vegetation provided still less food, only a few jack 
fruit and the wild fruit of the motanga rewarding his 
search. He was so hungry at midday that he was reduced 
to collecting slugs from the trees, a fare he would fain 
have avoided. Fearless as he was, he was beginning to 
be anxious, for, to make a certain course in this dense 
forest, was well-nigh impossible. 

At dusk, when again he sought a hollow tree and 
dropped a heap of smoldering herbage into the hole, he 
started back with a low cry, for he heard an ominous 
hiss in the depths, and was only just in time to avoid a 
python which had been aroused from sleep by the burn- 
ing mass. In a twinkling the huge coils spread them- 
selves, like a released watch-spring, beyond the mouth of 
the hole and along the lowest branch of the tree. With 
all his forest lore, Samba was surprised to find that 
95 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


a python could move so quickly. The instant he heard 
the angry hiss he crouched low against the trunk, thank- 
ful that the reptile had chosen a branch on the other side. 
Armed only with a knife, he knew himself no match for a 
twenty-foot python; had he not seen a young hippo- 
potamus strangled by a python no larger than this ? Like 
Brer Rabbit, Samba lay low and said nothing, until the 
python, swinging itself on to the branch of an adjacent 
tree a few feet away, disappeared in the foliage. Then, 
allowing time for the reptile to settle elsewhere. Samba 
sought safer quarters. The python’s house was com- 
fortable, even commodious, but Samba would scarcely 
have slept as soundly as was his wont, in uncertainty 
whether the disturbed owner might not after all return 
home. 

He felt very cramped and miserable when he rose next 
day to resume his journey. This morning he had to 
start without breakfast, for neither fruits nor berries were 
to be had; a search among fallen trees failed even to 
discover ants, of which to make a scanty meal. Constant 
walking and privation were telling on his frame; his 
eyes were less bright, his step was less elastic. But there 
was a great heart within him ; he plodded on ; he had set 
out to find his father and mother ; he would not turn back ; 
the dangers ahead could be no worse than those he had 
already met, and no experienced general of an army could 
have known better than Samba that to retreat is often 
more perilous than to advance. 

Late in the afternoon, when, having found a few ber- 
ries, he had eaten the only meal of the day and was 
about to seek, earlier than usual, his quarters for the 
night, he heard, from a short distance to the left of his 
track, a great noise of growling and snarling. The 
sounds were not like those of any animal he knew. With 
cautious steps he made his way through the matted un- 
96 


SAMBA MEETS THE LITTLE MEN 


dergrowth towards the noise. Almost unawares he came 
upon an extraordinary sight. In the center of an open 
space twenty feet across, a small man, lighter in hue than 
the majority of Congolese natives, was struggling to free 
himself from the grip of a serval, which had buried its 
claws deep in his body and thigh. Two other small men, 
less even than Samba in height, were leaping and yelling 
around their comrade, apparently instructing him how to 
act, though neither made use of the light spears they 
carried, to attack the furious beast. The serval, its green- 
ish eyes brilliant with rage, was an unusually powerful 
specimen of its kind, resembling, indeed, a leopard rather 
than a tiger-cat. It was bent, as it seemed, on working its 
way upward to the man’s throat, and its reddish spotted 
coat was so like his skin in hue that, as they writhed 
and twisted this way and that, an onlooker might well 
have hesitated to launch a spear at the beast for fear of 
hitting the man. 

One of the little man’s hands had a grip of the serval’s 
throat ; but he was not strong enough to strangle it, and 
the lightning quickness of the animal’s movements pre- 
vented him from gripping it with the other hand. Even 
a sturdily built European might well have failed to gain 
the mastery in a fight with such a foe; and the little 
man had neither the strength nor the staying power to 
hold out much longer. Yet his companions continued to 
yell and dance round, keeping well out of reach of the 
terrible claws; while blood was streaming from a dozen 
deep gashes in the little man’s body. 

Samba stood but a few moments gazing at the scene. 
The instinct of the born hunter was awake in him, and 
that higher instinct which moves a man to help his kind. 
Clutching his broad knife, he bounded into the open, 
reached the fainting man in two leaps, and plunged the 
blade deep into the creature’s side behind the shoulder. 

97 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


With a convulsive wriggle, the serval made a last attempt 
to bury its fangs in its victim’s neck. Then its muscles 
suddenly relaxed and it fell dead to the ground. 

Samba’s intervention had come too late. The man had 
been so terribly mauled that his life was ebbing fast. 
His comrades looked at him and began to make strange 
little moaning cries ; then they laid him on a bed of leaves 
and turned their attention to Samba. He knew that he 
was in the presence of Bambute, the dreaded pygmies of 
the forest. Never before had he seen them, but he had 
heard of them as fearless hunters and daring fighters, 
who moved about from place to place in the forest, and 
levied toll upon the plantations of larger men. The two 
little men came to him, and patted his arms and jabbered 
together; but he understood nothing of what they said. 
By signs he explained to them that he was hungry. Then, 
leaving their wounded comrade to his fate, they took 
Samba by the hands, and led him rapidly into the forest, 
following a path which could scarcely have been detected 
by any except themselves. In some twenty minutes they 
arrived at a clearing where stood a group of twoscore 
small huts, like beehives, no more than four feet high, 
with an opening eighteen inches square, just large enough 
to allow a pygmy to creep through. Pygmies, men and 
women, were squatting around — ^ugly little people, but 
well made and muscular, with leaves and grass aprons 
for all clothing, and devoid of such ornaments as an 
ordinary negro loves. 

They sprang up as Samba approached between his 
guides, and a great babel of question and answer arose, 
like the chattering of monkeys. The story was told; 
none showed any concern for the man left to die; the 
Bambute acknowledge no ties, and seem to have little 
family affection. A plentiful dinner of antelope flesh and 
bananas was soon placed before Samba, and it was clear 
98 


SAMBA MEETS THE LITTLE MEN 


that the pygmies w^re ready to make much of the stranger 
who had so boldly attacked the serval. 

One of them knew a little of a Congolese dialect, and 
he succeeded in making Samba understand that the chief 
was pleased with him and wished to adopt him as his 
son. Samba shook his head and smiled ; his own parents 
were alive, he said ; he wished for no others. This made 
the chief angry. The chiefs of some of the big men had 
often adopted pygmy boys and made slaves of them; it 
was now his turn. The whole community scowled and 
snarled so fiercely that Samba thought the safest course 
was to feign acquiescence for the moment, and seize the 
first opportunity afterwards of slipping away. 

But nearly three weeks passed before a chance presented 
itself. The pygmies kept him with them, never letting 
him go out of their sight. They fed him well — almost too 
well, expecting his powers of consumption to be equal to 
their own. Never had he before seen such extraordinary 
eaters. One little man would squat before a stalk bearing 
fifty or sixty bananas, and eat them all. True, he lay 
moaning and groaning all night, but next morning would 
be quite ready to gorge an equal meal. Since they did 
not cultivate the ground themselves. Samba wondered 
where they obtained their plentiful supply of bananas and 
manioc. He learned by and by that they appropriated 
what they pleased from the plantations of a neighboring 
tribe of big men, who had too great a respect for the pyg- 
mies’ poisoned arrows and spears to protest. Samba 
hoped that he might one day escape to this tribe, but a 
shifting of the village rendered this impossible, though 
it aiforded the boy the opportunity for which he had so 
long been waiting. 

On the night when the pygmy tribe settled down in 
its new home, four days’ journey from the old, Samba 
took advantage of the fatigue of his captors to steal away. 

99 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


He had chosen the darkest hour before the dawn, and 
knowing that he would very soon be missed and followed 
up, he struck off through the forest as rapidly as he could. 
With plentiful food he had recovered his old strength and 
vigor, and he strode along fleetly, finding his way chiefly 
by the nature of the ground beneath his feet; for there 
was no true path, and the forest was almost completely 
dark, even when dawn had broken elsewhere. As the 
morning drew on, the leafy arcades became faintly illu- 
minated and he could then see sufficiently well to choose 
the easiest way through the obstacles that beset his course. 

Despite all his exertions, his progress was very slow. 
Well he knew that, expert though he was in forest travel, 
he could not move through these tangled mazes with any- 
thing like the speed of the active little men, who, by this 
time, were almost certainly on his track. At the best he 
could hardly have got more than two miles’ start. As he 
threaded his way through the brushwood, hacking with 
his knife at obstructive creepers, and receiving many a 
scratch from brier and thorn, he tried to think of some 
way of throwing his pursuers off the scent; but every 
yard of progress demanded so much exertion that he was 
unequal to the effort of devising any likely ruse. 

Suddenly coming upon a shallow stream about two 
yards wide, that ran across his line of march, he saw in 
a flash a chance of covering his trail. He stepped into 
the stream, pausing for a moment to drink, then waded a 
few paces against the current, narrowly scanning the 
bordering trees. They showed a close network of inter- 
lacing branches, one tree encroaching on another. 
Choosing a bough overhanging the brook, just above his 
head. Samba drew himself up into the tree, taking care 
that no spots of water were left on the branch to betray 
him. Then, clambering nimbly like a monkey from bough 
to bough, he made a path for himself through the trees. 


100 


SAMBA MEETS THE LITTLE MEN 


at an angle half-way between the directions of the stream 
and of his march through the forest. He hoped that, 
losing his track in the stream, the Bambute would jump 
to the conclusion that he was making his way up or down 
its bed, and would continue their chase in those direc- 
tions. 

Among the trees his progress was even slower than on 
the ground. Every now and again he had to return on 
his tracks, encountering a branch that, serviceable as it 
might look, proved either too high or too low, or not 
strong enough to bear his weight. And he was making 
more noise than he liked. There was not only the rustle 
and creak of parting leaves and bending twigs, and the 
crack of small branches that snapped under his hand; 
but his intrusion scared the natural denizens of the forest, 
and they clattered away with loud cries of alarm— gray 
parrots in hundreds, green pigeons, occasionally a hawk 
or the great blue plantain eater. The screeches of the 
birds smothered, indeed, any sound that he himself might 
make; but such long-continued evidence of disturbance 
might awaken the suspicion of the little men and guide 
them to his whereabouts. 

By and by he came to a gap in the forest. The clear 
sunlight was welcome as a guide to his course ; but he saw 
that to follow the direction which he believed would bring 
him toward Banonga he must now leave the trees. He 
stopped for a few minutes to recover breath and to con- 
sider what he had best do. As he lay stretched along a 
bough, his eye traveled back over the path he had come. 
The vagaries of lightning that had struck down two 
forest giants in close proximity, disclosed to his view a 
stretch of some twenty yards of the stream which he had 
just crossed on his primeval suspension bridge. What 
caused him to start and draw himself together, shrinking 
behind a leafy screen thick enough to hide him even from 

lOI 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


the practised eyes of the little forest men ? There, in the 
bed of the stream, glancing this way and that, at the 
water, the banks, the trees on every side, were a file of 
Bambute, carrying their little bows and arrows, and their 
short, light spears. They moved swiftly, silently, some 
bending towards the ground, others peering to right and 
left with a keenness that nothing could escape. Samba’s 
heart thumped against his ribs as he watched them. He 
counted them as they passed, one after another, across 
the gap ; they numbered twenty, and he was not sure that 
he had seen the first. 

The last disappeared. Samba waited. Had his ruse 
succeeded ? There was absolute silence ; he heard neither 
footstep nor voice. But the little men must soon find 
out their mistake. They would then cast back to the 
point where they had lost the scent. Could they pick it 
up again, trace him to the tree and follow him up? He 
could not tell. They must have been close upon him when 
he ascended into the tree; evidently he had left the path 
only in the nick of time. Thus much he had gained. 
But he dared not wait longer ; there was no safety for him 
while they were so near; he must on. 


102 


A TRIP WITH A CROCODILE 


at the lazy opening of an eye, he could survey a long 
stretch of the river. And he had awaked to see a plump 
and tempting black boy at the inconsiderable altitude 
of four feet above his Bnout. 

Those who have seen the crocodile only in his hours of 
ease, lazily sunning himself on a river-bank, or floating 
with scarcely more than his eyes and forehead visible on 
the surface of the stream, may have come to the com- 
fortable conclusion that' he is a slow-moving and lethar- 
gic beast. But see him rushing at the bank to seize, in 
his terrible jaws, the unwary antelope or zebra that has 
come to drink, or to sweep it into the river with a single 
blow of his mighty tail. Watch him when, roused from 
his doze on a sand-bank, by the sting of a rifle bullet on 
his armor, he vanishes with lightning rapidity beneath 
the water. At one moment, to all seeming as lifeless as 
a log, the next he is a raging monster ready to tear and 
rend any hapless creature which his inertness has be- 
guiled. 

Of the two. Samba and the crocodile, it was the saurian 
that first recovered his wits. His instinct, when disturbed 
at close quarters, is to rush forthwith upon his enemy 
or victim. Thus did the crocodile now. Considering 
that he is a beast not built for jumping, the leap he at- 
tempted, with a spasmodic wriggle of his formidable 
tail, was quite a creditable feat. With his teeth he grazed 
the lower part of the branch on which Samba sat, and 
the boy, gazing down into the beast’s eyes, shuddered 
and shrank away. Fortunate it was for him that his 
legs had not been dangling. Nothing could then have 
saved him. 

The reptile, slipping back after its failure, maintained 
its hold on the lower branches with its fore feet. Before 
it could make a second attempt. Samba had swung him- 
self into the branch above. The tree toppled slightly, 
107 


FIGHTING ON THF CONGO 


and, for one moment of terror, Samba feared he would 
be thrown into the very jaws of the monster. But the 
sand-bank held the tree firmly, and that peril was past. 

With thick foliage between him and the boy, the croco- 
dile saw no chance of securing its victim from his pres- 
ent position. But it was determined not to be balked, 
and, cunning beast! could afford to wait. It seemed to 
know that the boy was safe only so long as he clung 
to his perch. On the sand-bank, or in the water, his end 
would alike be speedy. So the reptile slid off the bank 
into the river, and swam to the trunk end of the tree, 
which had been swung round by the current and was now 
pointing down stream. If it could not leap, it could 
crawl, and up the trunk the approach to its prey was 
easy. 

Samba’s eyes were now wide with fright, as he saw 
the beast’s intention. Up a tree on the river-bank he 
could have laughed any crocodile to scorn ; but this sand- 
bank in mid stream was ground peculiarly the creature’s 
own, even though the prey was on a branch ten feet 
above him. With his experience of sand-banks the croco- 
dile knew there was no permanency in this arrangement. 

The attempts of the huge reptile to gain a footing on 
the trunk had a result which caused Samba mingled hope 
and fear. The tree floated clear of the bank, and the 
voyage began again. But how different were the cir- 
cumstances! In the stern, no longer a cheerful, smiling 
boy, carelessly watching the slow banks glide by, but a 
boy whose hands and feet gripped his perch with anxious 
tenacity, and whose scared eyes were quick to mark every 
movement of the unwelcome, the abhorred passenger 
amidships. With many a splash of his tail, and many 
a grunt of impatient fury, the monster at last made good 
his footing on the broad trunk, which, under his weight, 
was for more than a quarter of its length invisible be- 
io8 


A TRIP WITH A CROCODILE 


neath the surface of the water. For some minutes he 
lay still, staring at Samba with unwinking eyes, display- 
ing all his teeth, as if to grin sardonically at his victim. 
For a moment Samba regretted that he had not swarmed 
down from his perch and attacked the crocodile with his 
knife while he was still struggling to mount the trunk. 
But then, he reflected that he had after all done wisely, 
for the reptile would have slid back into the water, and 
before Samba could gain his retreat he might have been 
swept off by one swish of the terrible tail. 

Samba, as he had shown more than once, and notably 
in the recent incident of the serval, had no lack of cour- 
age, but he had never before been at such close quarters 
with a crocodile, the most terrible of all the natural ene- 
mies of men in the regions of the Congo. And as he sat 
and watched the glassy stare of the hideous reptile, now 
wriggling inch by inch towards him, he felt a strange 
helplessness, a kind of fascination that seemed to chill 
and paralyze his power of movement and of thought. 
He had retreated as far as he dared. His weight had 
caused some of the slenderer and more elastic branches 
to bend towards the water; he had even imagined that, 
as he tried them, the pressure threatened to make the tree 
revolve. What his fate would be if the whirling of the 
trunk on its axis brought him into the river he well knew. 
The crocodile would slip as nimbly as an eel after him; 
and, entangled in the foliage, which to his armored 
enemy would offer no obstacle, he would fall an easy 
prey. 

The crocodile wriggled on, till it came to the place 
where the first branch forked from the trunk. Scarcely 
more than its own length now separated it from Samba. 
Apparently it had come as near as it cared to venture; 
not being a climber, the feat of crawling up the tapering 
branch on which Samba was perched was not one to its 


109 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


taste. It lay still, with jaws agape, its eyes half closed 
in a kind of wicked leer. 

Samba tried to look away from the hideous beast, but 
in vain; he found his gaze drawn back uncontrollably. 
He felt even more subject to the fascination now that the 
crocodile’s movements had ceased. The conviction was 
growing upon him that sooner or later he would slide 
down the branch and fall dreamily into the open jaws. 
He was fast becoming hypnotized. 

But he was roused from this dangerous trance-like state 
by a sudden roll of the tree. Perched high as he was, 
the motion caused him to swing through an arc of several 
yards and brought him perilously near the water. The 
danger quickened his faculties ; he clung on with a tight 
grip, bethinking himself to look whether his fishing-spear, 
which he had stuck into the bark by him, was still safe. 
He was relieved to find that it was undisturbed. The 
tree righted itself, and a gleam of hope lightened Samba’s 
mind when he saw that the crocodile was in the water. 
Though, stretched on the trunk, the beast had felt the 
roll less than Samba above, it had a less tenacious grip 
and less ability to adapt itself, and first its tail, and then 
the rest of its body, had slid off. It was violently strug- 
gling to regain its position, its jaw resting on the trunk, 
the fore paws furiously beating the water. 

The memory of the reptile’s former difficulties in 
mounting inspired Samba with an idea, which, impelled 
equally by terror and hate, he was prompt to act upon. 
The tree was still rocking slightly before regaining its 
steadiness, and the crocodile, despite its efforts, was una- 
ble to gain a firm grip on the moving trunk. All its 
attention was engaged upon the accomplishment of its 
immediate purpose: it would lose Samba if it did not 
once more mount the tree. Samba was quick to seize 
the critical moment. Spear in hand he crept downwards 
no 









■SfeL«P^ ^ 

i 



















Samba watched the glassy stare of the hideous reptile Page I og 


r 



A TRIP WITH A CROCODILE 


along the branch on which he had been perched, careful 
that his movements should not divert the crocodile’s at- 
tention. Reaching the junction of the branch with the 
parent stem, only five or six feet from the reptile, he let 
himself down noiselessly into the river on the far side 
of the tree, and swam for a second or two until he came 
opposite the crocodile. During these few seconds he had 
been hidden from the creature’s view by the mass of 
the trunk, which rose out of the water to some height 
above his head. 

The crocodile had now managed to get its fore paws on 
the tree, and in struggling to hoist itself its snout was 
raised almost upright, exposing the soft underside, the 
sole part in which the reptile is vulnerable to anything 
except a very heavy bullet. Samba caught sight of the 
tip of the snout above the tree ; here was the opportunity 
he had hoped for in making this hazardous experiment. 
Taking, with his left hand, a firm grip of a knotty promi- 
nence on the trunk, he raised himself in the water, and 
with the right hand drove his spear deep into the mon- 
ster’s throat. The crocodile made no sound; a lash of 
the powerful tail drove up a wave that caused the tree 
to rock violently; then the huge body slipped backwards 
into the water. 

The moment he had driv'en his spear home Samba let 
go his hold on the tree, and trod water until the current 
brought the foliage to him. Then he drew himself nim- 
bly up into the branch he had formerly occupied. He 
was breathless, and scarcely yet recovered from his scare ; 
but there was no sign of the crocodile, and knowing that 
when mortally wounded the reptile sinks into deep water, 
he felt that his enemy had gone for ever. But, chancing 
to look back, he was surprised to notice that the water 
in the wake of the tree was tinged with red, and not 
merely the water far behind, but that immediately below 

III 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


him. Was it possible that the crocodile, though wounded, 
was still following? He felt a shiver thrill through him, 
and, bending down from his perch, kept his eyes fixed 
in a stare on that continuous streak of red. 

The minutes passed. Still the water showed that faint, 
persistent tinge. Samba was becoming more and more 
nervous. Like the reptile’s eyes but a little while ago, 
that line of red held his gaze in a strange fascination. He 
was still watching it when the tree suddenly gave a vio- 
lent lurch, and turned half over. Samba, whose hold had 
relaxed in his nervousness, was flung off the branch into 
a clump of bushes at the side of the river, which here 
began to race rapidly through a deep gorge. Scratched 
and dazed by the fall, he picked himself up slowly. He 
rubbed his eyes. What was this? He was in the midst 
of a group of pygmies, who were pointing excitedly, ut- 
tering their strange, coughing cry, to the branches of the 
tree. In its lurch it had been turned almost completely 
round, so that the foliage formerly beneath the water 
was now uppermost. And there, firmly wedged in a 
fork of two boughs, lay the lifeless body of the crocodile. 

The Bambute jabbered to Samba, stroked his arms, 
patted his back, examined the spear which, though it 
was broken in his fall, he had not let go. From the bank 
they had witnessed the boy’s bold fight, and they had fol- 
lowed the course of the floating tree until it ran ashore 
on a jutting bed of rock. Samba made signs that he 
wished to pursue his journey on foot; but the Bambute 
shook their heads and grunted, and carried him away 
with them. Once more he was a prisoner. 


II2 


CHAPTER XI 


BULA MATADI COMES TO ILOLA 

“Well, Barney,” said Jack, when Mr. Martindale’s 
canoe had disappeared, ‘T don’t know how a first mate 
would feel if he lost his captain in mid ocean, but I 
should fancy he’d feel pretty much as I do now.” 

“And what sort uv feeling is now consuming ye, sorr ?” 

“Mixed, Barney, very mixed ! I like the idea of being 
left in charge; trusted, you know; there’s something 
jolly pleasant about that. But that’s the point, you see ; 
I am left in charge.” 

“Sure I see your maning widout your telling me, sorr. 
’Tis just the very same feeling I used to have whin a 
bhoy, and me mither put the baby in me arms and tould 
me to sit wid her on the doorstep. ’Twas a sweet, pretty 
colleen, an’ I thought a powerful deal uv having such 
a heap uv loveliness in me arms; but thin, just as you 
say, sorr, she was in me arms, an’ they being thin an’ she 
being fat — begorra, I was soon mighty tired uv it, an’ 
I wished she was ugly so that I might hate her without 
sm. 

“I hope I shan’t feel quite so bad as that, Barney,” 
said Jack with a laugh. “But I own I’m a little anxious, 
with so many people in my charge.” 

“And not one uv them to be trusted, saving Pat and 
me. 

“And this mining claim of my uncle’s to keep an eye 
on and defend without using force.” 

“And wild beasts prowling around — ” 

113 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


^'And that villainous uncle of Samba’s somewhere in 
the neighborhood, I suppose, waiting a chance to molest 
us.” 

“And bedad! if he does, he’ll find an Irishman, an 
Englishman, and a terrier, Irish by breed and Irish by 
nature, and them three are a match for any fifty Blokos, 
widout a doubt.” 

“You’re an optimist, Barney. But you’re right. It’s 
silly to meet troubles half-way. We had better set about 
doing something. I used to think our house-master kept 
our noses rather too close to the grindstone, but I begin to 
see he was right when he said work was the best cure 
for the dumps.” 

“And for what the advertisements call a tendency to 
corpulence. But what will you be after doing at all, 
sorr ?” 

“Well, don’t you think that, now our numbers are re- 
duced, it would be as well to move our camp nearer to 
Imbono’s village? We shall be here for a couple of 
months or so, and if Boloko is still on our tracks, we 
should be less open to surprise near Ilola. Besides, it 
will give the men something to do. They’d better build 
grass huts for the whole party, and I don’t see why we 
shouldn’t try our hands at architectural improvements.” 

“Indeed, ’tis a good notion, sorr. But are ye sure Im- 
bono would be willing to have us for close neighbors?” 

“We can try. He’s my blood brother, you know. And 
I dare say we can put him up to a thing or two.” 

The chief made no objection to the suggested change 
of site; indeed, he offered the assistance of his men in 
the construction of the new huts. This, however. Jack 
declined in the politest terms, thinking it better to pro- 
vide plenty of work for his own men until he had had 
time to take his bearings. The new huts were built 
within a short distance of Ilola near a stream. They 
114 


BULA MATADI COMES TO ILOLA 


were the ordinary grass huts of the natives, but Jack, 
seeing a number of wooden slats taken from the bottoms 
of old canoes, had purchased them from Imbono, and, 
when shaped a little, they made a very good substitute 
for boards. The new settlement was surrounded with a 
stockade in the native manner, space enough being left 
within to accommodate Mr. Martindale and his party 
when they should return. 

This work occupied a fortnight. Everything had gone 
smoothly, save for trifling squabbles among the natives. 
These Jack managed to settle with little difficulty, in great 
part through the excellent qualities of Lepoko, who turned 
out to be a much better man all round than his brother 
Nando. When the new village was completed. Jack set 
the men to make Indian clubs from the trees near at 
hand, and spent part of the cool hours in instructing his 
followers in their use. They took readily to the new 
pastime, and very quickly became proficient in executing 
a great variety of intricate figures. Jack was elated at 
the success of his experiment; it not only provided an 
admirable drill for the men, but accustomed them to take 
commands from him and thus consolidated his authority. 

Imbono^s men caught the infection; Indian clubs were 
soon the order of the day in Ilola ; and it gave Jack and 
Barney no little amusement to see men, women and chil- 
dren, at all times of the day, whirling clubs around their 
heads. Imbono saw that his men’s performances were 
greatly lacking in rhythm and grace, and he begged his 
blood brother (whom he had named Lokolobolo, “strong 
leg”) to allow some of his men to join in the daily practis- 
ing. Jack was nothing loath ; the more influence he could 
obtain in this way the better his chances of success in the 
task his uncle had set him. 

He was casting about for some new employment to 
occupy and interest his men when a couple of canoes 

115 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


came up the river bearing a letter from Mr. Martindale 
and a small assignment of Mauser rifles and ammunition. 
The letter was dated from Baroka. 

Dear Jack: 

Tve got here safely, no interference, no upsets. I’ve managed 
to get hold of some 'rifles — I won’t tell you how — and send them 
to you in charge of some canoe “boys.” Hope they’ll reach you 
safely. I’ve paid the boys well, and promised them as much 
more if they return and meet me with an acknowledgment from 
you. I’m off to Boma; will write you again from there if I 
can find a means of sending the letter. Let me know by the 
bearer how you are getting on. 

On the way down I made more particular inquiries than were 
possible in coming up as to the methods of the Congo Govern- 
ment. At Stanleyville I met a Frenchman who told me a good 
deal, and here got rather chummy with an English missionary 
on his way home to tell the British public some of the effects 
of King Leopold’s rule. One need only look at the man to see 
that he is the right sort, with the stuff in him for martyrdom if 
the call came. The things he told me made my skin creep. 
Leopold seems to be doing his best to depopulate the country. 
He’ll soon make Vanderbilt seem small as a multimillionaire, but 
when his pile’s made this State of his will be a wilderness. 

I find that the natives are required to bring in four kilos of 
rubber every fortnight. They’re supposed to be paid for it, and 
they do get brass rods or something of that sort ; the pay works 
out at the rate of three cents a pound — when rubber to my know- 
ledge fetches about eighty cents a pound in the European mar- 
ket ! I hear of cases where they don’t even get that ; a spoonful 
of salt is supposed to be sufficient* If the rubber don’t measure 
up to the standard, the least punishment the poor wretches get 
is twenty-five lashes with a whip of hippo hide : the chicotte, an 
outrageous thing that would cut through a pine log. But they 
don’t stop at twenty-five; a hundred ain’t uncommon; no wonder 
some of the poor creatures peg out after it. 

But that’s not the worst. These precious “forest guards,” as 
they call them, seem to be little less than fiends. I saw with 
my own eyes, at one of the villages on the way down, a basket 
filled with hands, cut from the people these savages have killed 
for not bringing in enough rubber. The Frenchman told me 

ii6 


BULA MATADI COMES TO ILOLA 


they have to produce these hands before the Commissary to 
prove they haven’t wasted their cartridges. According to State 
law they oughtn’t to be armed with rifles, but they’ve got a 
Belgian thing called the Albini, and that’s how they use it. I 
wouldn’t believe that this hand-chopping was done with the 
knowledge of the officials, though even then it don’t relieve them 
of responsibility; but I heard of a State officer at one of the 
outposts who actually paid in brass rods for the hands brought 
him. 

Law doesn’t count here, and justice is only a name. What do 
you think of this? A Belgian official quartered himself with 
twenty native soldiers on a small village, and because they 
couldn’t fix up at once the food required for the visitors, he car- 
ried the chief and some of his men to his camp up river, 
kept ’em there tied up for a month, till a fine of 5000 brass rods 
had been paid — ruination for such a small place. The missionary 
told me that “fights” are constantly taking place, and “fight” 
simply means massacre. Districts that once held a thousand 
people are now reduced to a hundred; what natives are not 
killed get so worn out and dispirited that they get bowled over 
by sleeping sickness. If this sort of thing goes on much longer 
the whole population will be wiped out. 

You’ll be surprised to get such a long letter; but fact is I 
can’t think of anything else just now. It makes me fairly sick 
to think that America had a hand in putting this huge territory 
under the control of a man whose philanthropic high falutin 
comes to this. The whole system is organized murder and pil- 
lage under the form of law, and for this. King Leopold, who 
pockets a thumping profit, is responsible before God and man. 
Now I’ve told you this, you’ll know how to deal with that 
fellow Elbel if he tries any tricks. But remember, no fighting 
except in self-defense. Patience, my boy — toujours la patience, 
as the Frenchman said to me when I was boiling with rage and 
wanted to go right away and speak my mind to the governor. 

Your affectionate uncle, 

John Martindale. 

P. S. — I saw and heard nothing of Samba. 

There was plenty of food for thought here, especially 
when Jack learned from the head paddler who had brought 
the letter that the officials of the trust in which Ilola 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


was situated were coming up the river to establish new 
depots for the rubber. He wrote a brief account of what 
he had been doing and despatched it by the same men. 
Then, to be prepared for eventualities, he picked out the 
most intelligent of his followers and began to teach them 
the use of the rifle. Only a few of them showed any 
promise as marksmen. Jack was very patient with them. 
Having a good stock of ammunition and the promise of 
more, he did not spare practice, and, in a short time, 
had about fifteen fairly trustworthy shots. One man, 
named Makoko, took to the rifle from the first and ran 
Jack close as a marksman. Jack was very proud of his 
pupil. He himself had been the crack shot of his^ school 
company; and though there was all the difference in the 
world between shooting at the butts from a position of 
rest and shooting at alligators or hippos from a canoe, 
he had tested his marksmanship with success as he came 
up the Congo. 

Now that some of his men had rifles, it occurred to 
Jack to teach them what he remembered of his company 
drill. It was a welcome change after their long practice 
with the Indian clubs, and they entered into it with the 
pleasure and zest of children. Lepoko was gratified with 
the rank of sergeant, and jMakoko was made corporal in 
recognition of his diligence and skill in musketry. When 
the company was formed, 'Barney reminded Jack that 
he had been a corporal in the Irish Fusiliers. ^‘And 
sure Td be in the army now, sorr, only they didn’t invent 
the Irish Guards till I was a time-expired man. But 
having been a corporal, it’s meself that is cut out to be 
your liftinant here, sorr. We’ve got Pat for the pet uv 
the reg’mint,” he added, ‘‘and the only thing that’s want- 
ing is the uniform.” 

“Well, Barney, perhaps, for the sake of uniformity, 
we’d better strip and take to the loincloth.” 

ii8 


BULA MATADI COMES TO ILOLA 


“Ah ! you must always be having your bit uv fun, sorr. 
We’d be far too conspicuous, for my skin at any rate 
would turn red wi’ modesty, and the generals say that 
red coats make the best targets for the enemy.” 

The drilling of Jack’s company was followed with 
great interest and admiration by Imbono and his men; 
they never failed to attend the daily parade, and soon de- 
sired to join it. Jack delighted Imbono by putting the 
villagers through the same exercises as his own men, 
excepting, of course, the musketry practice, for which 
they had no rifles. Before long Jack found himself cap- 
tain of a company a hundred and fifty strong, all but his 
fifteen, riflemen being spearsmen. 

Nearly two months had now passed. Jack had not 
heard again from his uncle, whose return he daily ex- 
pected. He was anxious to see him again, for lately news 
had been brought in by excited natives that the servants 
of the Great White Chief were drawing nearer, their 
progress being attended by wanton cruelties which boded 
ill for the men of Ilola. So distressed was Imbono at 
the tales he heard from these messengers that he thought 
of dismantling his village and migrating into the depths 
of the forest. There for a time he and his people might 
hide from the destroyer. But to a people accustomed to 
the open, the prospect of making a new home in the forest 
was gloomy indeed. Most of them would probably die 
of disease before they became acclimated, and there was 
great risk of starving while clearings were being made 
and brought under cultivation. Imbono resolved to wait 
a little longer, hoping that Bula Matadi would turn back, 
sated with spoils from the lower reaches of the Semba. 

One day, the visitors so long expected and so little de- 
sired arrived at the village. Jack’s settlement being on 
the farther side of Ilola from the river, he did not know 
of their approach until informed of it by a messenger 

119 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


from Imbono. Thirty forest guards of the Great White 
Chief had come, and with them came twenty nonde- 
scripts, hangers-on of the licensed pillagers. Their 
leader was not a white man, as Imbono had expected, 
but a black man like themselves. This surprised Jack. 
It was of rather ill omen that the first representatives 
of King Leopold in Imbono’s village should be n^roes 
free from white men’s control. But the strangers re- 
ported that a white man — his name, they said, was Elobela 
— was coming up the river behind them. Meanwhile, 
they, in his name, called upon the chief to supply rubber. 
Imbono desired that his brother Lokolobolo would come 
into the village and give him advice. 

"‘Faith, I’d do nothing of the sort, sorr,” said Barney. 
“What would ye have any truck with Elbel’s scoun- 
dhrels for?” 

“But it would be a poor return for Imbono’s kindness 
to refuse. I shall certainly go ; the question is, shall I go 
armed?” 

“The blessed angels help ye if ye don’t, sorr. Take 
your revolver; I’ll come wid ye, and so will Pat; ’tis 
right to make a good show for the honor of the reg’mint.” 

Accordingly, captain, lieutenant, and regimental pet, 
with Lepoko as interpreter, left the stockaded camp and 
crossed to Ilola. They found the thirty forest guards 
already swaggering about the village as if it belonged to 
them. They were big, muscular Ngombe, armed with 
rifle, cutlass and whip. Their leader was engaged in 
conversation with the chief. No sooner did Pat perceive 
him than he darted forward with a growl, and, coming 
to the negro, began to bark furiously at his heels. The 
man turned round quickly and aimed a blow with his 
whip at* the dog, which made Pat bark and jump more 
vigorously than ever. At the same moment the man 


120 


BULA MATADI COMES TO ILOLA 


caught sight of Jack, and his face expressed surprise, 
guilt and bravado in turn. 

“Begorra !” said Barney under his breath, '' 'tis Boloko 
himself !’’ 

The chief’s countenance cleared; he was unmistakably 
pleased at Jack’s ready response to his request. Then he 
anxiously asked what he should do. 

‘T don’t think you can do anything but obey,” replied 
Jack. ‘‘Undoubtedly the Great White Chief is lord of 
the land. By the laws he has made you are bound to 
supply these people with rubber. It is your tax. If you 
resist, it will mean ruin to yourselves and your villages. 
How is the rubber to be paid for?” 

“In brass rods.” 

“Well, let your men do their best. We will see if you 
get your due pay. My uncle will soon be back; he is a 
determined man, and if you are not properly treated he 
will take care that som'ebody hears of it.” 

Boloko scowled, then laughed, when Lepoko trans- 
lated this answer to the chief. He swaggered away to his 
men, and the whole crowd were soon laughing heartily, 
every now and then making derisive gestures at the 
white men. With some difficulty Barney had got hold of 
Pat, whose barking had subsided into a rumbling growl. 
But for his restraining hand Barney knew well that the 
dog would have thrown prudence to the winds and set 
upon the strange negroes. 

From that day Imbono’s villagers began the collection 
of rubber. Boloko and his men seized as many huts as 
they required, and demanded regular and copious sup- 
plies of food for themselves and their hangers-on. Be- 
fore twenty-four hours had passed, Boloko, with half a 
dozen of his guards, strolled over to Jack’s village and 
looked in at the gateway of the stockade. Jack had al- 
ready decided to adopt military precautions; two of his 


1:21 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


best marksmen were doing sentry-go at the gate. When 
Boloko saw them and their rifles he thought better of 
entering, as he had purposed. He stood for some time* 
taking stock of the tidy compound and the neat, new 
huts around, and discussing with his men this unex- 
pected discovery. Then with a malignant scowl he re- 
turned to Ilola. 

For some days Jack saw no more of Boloko. He re- 
mained within his own stockade, thinking it would do 
the chief no good if he too openly showed friendship. 
Every day he put the men through their usual drill, 
never giving the least sign that he was aware of being 
closely observed by the forest guards. The drilling of 
Imbono’s men had ceased; the adult villagers were now 
engaged in the collection of rubber. 

From what Jack heard from his men, it soon became 
clear to him that Boloko was anxious to pick a quarrel 
with the chief. His motive. Jack guessed, was partly 
to show his authority, partly to flaunt his contempt of 
the friendship between Imbono and the white men. His 
design was to some extent kept in check by the know- 
ledge that Jack had fifteen men well armed and trained, 
and the presence of the two white men, Inglesa, too — he 
had a wholesome respect for the Inglesa — was in itself 
a considerable deterrent. But he began to find fault with 
the quality of the rubber brought in; declared that the 
villagers kept the best fish for themselves and gave him 
the worst; complained that his men were made ill by 
rotten manioc. Imbono took care that the details of 
these grievances were carried to Jack, who, however, 
held aloof, still feeling that interference on his part 
would do no good, while it would certainly aggravate 
the situation. While the Congo Free State intrusted 
the collection of its revenue to such subordinates as Bo- 


J22 


BULA MATADI COMES TO ILOLA 


loko, commanding ruthless savages like the forest guards, 
there was nothing to be done. 

One evening, after sunset, Lepoko came into Jack’s 
hut to say that the chief desired to see him. Jack hur- 
ried out, and found Imbono in company with one of his 
villagers. He invited them into his hut, lighted a candle, 
and setting food and palm wine before them, inquired the 
object of their visit. 

“Look, my brother!” said the chief, pointing to his 
man. 

The man turned, and showed three terrible gashes in 
his back. He lifted his right foot and removed a ban- 
dage; Jack saw that two of the toes were missing. 

“You see, brother!” said Imbono, “Ifumi was eating 
caterpillars in his hut. The guard Bomolo saw him and 
came to him and said: ‘Your rubber is short. You eat 
caterpillars instead of collecting rubber.’ Ifumi said: 
‘No, my rubber is not short. There is my basket; you 
see it is full.’ But Bomolo cut three gashes in his back 
and struck off two of his toes with his knife.” 

“That is the truth, Ifumi?” asked Jack. 

“It is true,” replied the man. 

“You did not provoke Bomolo?” 

“No, I said to him only what the chief has told.” 

“You did right to come, Imbono,” said Jack quietly. 
“Go back now: you had better not be seen here. I will 
send you a message in the morning.” 

The two men thanked him and went away, Ifumi limp- 
ing as he walked, supported by the chief’s arm. Jack 
called Barney and told him what had happened. 

“It makes my blood boil, Barney. I hoped it would 
not come to this. Poor wretches — to be at the mercy of 
such savages ! I can’t stand by and see such things done. 
I’m sure my uncle would not wish me to. Yet what can 
I do? We could fight Boloko and his men, and beat 
123 


FIGHTING ON TU^ CONGO 


them, I hope; but the goodness knows what that would 
lead to. Whatever little right they have to maim these 
poor people, we have none whatever to interfere, and we 
should have the regular forces of the State down on us 
for treason or rebellion or what not. But something 
must be done. I wish my uncle were here !” 

“Well, sorr, Fm ready for anything. The quickest 
and easiest way would be to fight, for wid all this drill 
wan uv our men is worth two uv those blackguards.” 

“No, my uncle said we were to fight only in self-de- 
fense. I can’t go against that. Couldn’t we persuade 
Boloko to keep his men in order — ^bribe him, perhaps?” 

“I’d sooner try to persuade the divil, sorr.” 

“Well, I shall try it. I’ll invite him to a palaver. 
We’ll give him a feast— open our last bottle of soda 
water; a good dinner improves a man’s temper some- 
times, you know, Barney.” 

“True, sorr, but it sometimes makes a man very impi- 
dent. Will I send Lepoko over wid the invitation the 
morn’s morn, sorr?” 

“Yes, directly after breakfast. Say that I shall be 
pleased if Boloko will come to see me in my camp. He 
may bring his rifle and half a dozen of his men.” 


124 


CHAPTER XII 


SAMBA COMES BACK 

As Jack had expected, Boloko was flattered by the 
invitation, with its implied recognition of his importance. 
There is nothing a negro likes better than an opportunity 
for talk, and Boloko declared himself quite ready to 
meet the Inglesa. But he would not venture into the 
camp; the meeting must take place outside. The objec- 
tion was not unreasonable. Jack gave up the idea of a 
banquet, and about eight o’clock in the morning went 
with Barney and Lepoko to the site of his original camp, 
where he found Boloko and half a dozen of his men 
already assembled. 

It is of the essence of a palaverer to be deliberate, not 
to say long-winded, and Jack followed the advice of Le- 
poko in passing many compliments and talking about a 
great variety of matters before he came to the point- 
Then, however, he made the point perfectly clear. He 
spoke of what he had learned of the forest guards’ be- 
havior in the village, and of Bomolo’s outrage in partic- 
ular. 

“My friend Boloko will know,” he concluded, “that it 
is against the law of the land to injure or assault the 
people. Your duty is to see that they do not destroy the 
vines by improper cutting, and to see that they go regu- 
larly into the forest. You have no right to ill-use them.” 

“The white man speaks very wisely; he knows much 
more than Boloko. Boloko knows nothing of law or 
right; he does what is the custom.” 

135 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“But you know, my friend, it is a wrong custom/’ 

“It may be as the white man says, but the Inglesa is 
not my master. My master is Elobela. Let the Inglesa 
complain to Elobela. As for right, what right has the 
Inglesa to interfere? He is a stranger; he is not a ser- 
vant of the Great White Chief.” 

“I am indeed a stranger; I am not a servant of the 
Great White Chief. But the Great Spirit who made the 
world and all men bids me speak if I see wrong done.” 

Boloko broke out into insolent laughter, and said some- 
thing to his men which Lepoko refused to translate. 

“Him say berrah nasty fing of massa; me no can tell 
massa.” 

Jack saw that it was time to bring the interview to a 
close. There was no coping with insolence. 

“Very well,” he said sternly, “it will be my duty to 
report at Boma what I have seen and heard in the vil- 
lage. And more, Boloko, I shall lay a complaint against 
you for attempting to cut loose our canoes, and for con- 
ducting an attack by night upon our camp.” 

Boloko looked startled and began to bluster when this 
was translated to him. But it was evident that this man- 
ner was assumed as a cloak to a real uneasiness. The 
moment Lepoko had concluded. Jack walked away from 
the meeting, and, as he returned to his own quarters, he 
heard the guards discussing in excited and vehement 
tones what he had said. For all his bluster, Boloko had 
been impressed. For a few days Jack heard of no overt 
acts of insolence. Imbono’s gratitude for the interven- 
tion was almost overwhelming. He heaped praise and 
compliments upon his brother Lokolobolo, and, not con- 
tent with words, made him a valuable present. Half a 
dozen of his men staggered to Jack’s hut one night under 
the weight of a huge tusk of ivory, which Imbono had 
J26 


SAMBA COMES BACK 


kept since the time when elephant-hunting was a profit- 
able occupation. 

Two days after the palaver a canoe arrived with an- 
other dozen Mauser rifles from Mr. Martindale. The 
head paddler was cautious enough to send one of his 
men in advance to the camp to announce his arrival, and 
Jack managed to get the rifles brought secretly within 
his stockade under cover of night. It was just as well, 
he thought, to keep Boloko in ignorance of this new ac- 
quisition of strength. 

The man reported that he had been despatched from 
Irebo by an Inglesa who had intrusted him with a bou~ 
kando'^ for the young Inglesa. Jack opened the note 
eagerly. This time it was very short. 

Dear Jack: 

All going well. Have been delayed by little investigating trips 
I have made in the concessions of the Abir Trust and the De la 
Couronne. Atrocities even worse than I thought. Hope all well 
with you. Patience — and tact. J. M. 

P. S. — I am sending a dozen rifles; can’t get any more. 

The paddler said that he had had great difficulty in 
eluding the white men and their agents. Only a few 
days before, he and his companions had almost run into 
* a white man who was coming up the river in a smoke- 
boat, establishing new outposts for the collection of rub- 
ber. The smoke-boat could not come up to Ilola, but the 
white man would come, and no doubt an outpost would 
be established there, for Imbono was the chief of several 
villages and had many young men. 

This news gave Jack no little uneasiness. Instinctively 
he felt that the difficulties arising from Boloko’s presence 
would be increased by the arrival of his Belgian superior. 


^Any kind of letter or document. 

127 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


For after what he had learned from his uncle he could 
not doubt that the tyranny of the forest guards was prac- 
tised at least with the connivance, if not by the actual au- 
thority, of the officials. As a precaution he took care 
to have men constantly on the lookout at the river-bank 
for the approach of strange canoes, and when one day 
Elbel’s launch was sighted he withdrew all his men 
within the stockade and posted double sentries. He felt 
pretty sure that the white man in command was Mon- 
sieur Elbel, the man with whom Mr. Martindale had 
already had a brush; and of Elbel he had a profound 
mistrust, formed at first sight, and accentuated by all 
that he had subsequently heard. 

Boloko and his satellites went in a crowd to the bank 
of the river to greet the new arrivals. From behind his 
stockade Jack watched them through his field-glass as 
they landed from the launch and set off for the village. 
The white man was certainly Elbel. He was accom- 
panied by a band of forest guards armed like Boloko’s, 
and by a crowd of hangers-on — negroes of many varie- 
ties. On the way up to the village Boloko walked by 
Elbebs side, talking very earnestly, and Jack saw the 
Belgian throw a keen and inquisitive glance in the direc- 
tion of his camp. 

Not an hour afterwards Elbel left the village and 
walked over to Jack’s settlement, which the natives had 
named Ilombikjambua, “house of the dog,” in reference to 
Pat, the terrier. Jack had given orders that the white 
man was to be admitted if he came, but no black man in 
his company. The Belgian had come alone, and looked 
a little surprised when the sentries at the gate received 
him with a correct military salute. Jack rose from his 
stool in front of his hut and doffed his hat courteously. 
Outwardly he was calm enough ; but he felt by no means 
easy in mind, realizing that his responsibility was far 
128 


SAMBA COMES BACK 


from being the “jolly lark” he had light-heartedly called 
it when Mr. Martindale announced his intention of leav- 
ing him in charge. 

“Good morning, sir,” said the Belgian, in his foreign 
accent 

“Good morning. I think I have the honor of address- 
ing Monsieur Elbel?” 

“Dat is my name. I do not know your name.” 

“John Challoner.” 

“Yes, I believe I see you before in a canoe.” 

“When I was coming up the river with my uncle.” 

“Who is now returned to Boma. Yes, I heard of dat. 
Mr. Martindale— I zink dat is de name — have found de 
gold he sought?” 

“I am not at liberty to discuss Mr. Martindalc’s busi- 
ness.” 

“Exactly. I see. Ve must not be indiscreet, hein? 
Now, as for your Mr. Martindale, I am not pleased, I 
say at once. I am not pleased viz Mr. Martindale. He 
refuse to give me up de black boy dat was in your canoe. 
Dat was against de law : it is not permitted in de Congo 
State for de natives to leave deir village.” 

“But if the village no longer exists, Mr. Elbel?” 

The Belgian shrugged. 

“Dat make no difference ! But I have more to say. I 
have learn dat your men have rifles; I see dem myself; 
dey even hold deir rifles at de salute; dey have military 
training, hein? Now, it is not permitted to have rifles 
in de Congo State; dey are vat you call contraband. I 
muss ask you to be so kind and give de rifles to me.” 

“I am afraid I can’t oblige you, Mr. Elbel. The rifles 
belong to my uncle.” 

“Dat make no difference! I find de rifles here: I 
muss ask you in de name of de Free State to give dem 
up.” 


129 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


‘T don’t know that you have any right to speak in 
the name of the Congo State. I believe, sir, you are an 
official of the Societe Cosmopolite du Commerce du Congo 
— a private trust. I can’t recognize your authority, Mr. 
Elbel.” 

^ “But it is de law.” 

“If you talk of law! Are your practices legal, Mr. 
Elbel? Is it legal to shoot and maim the natives, as you 
have been doing for a hundred miles and more along 
the river ? Is it legal to incite a night attack on peaceable 
travelers?” (Here Elbel could not suppress a start, and 
looked far from comfortable.) “But whether I am acting 
legally or not, I can not recognize your authority. If 
you want the rifles, I must ask you to wait until Mr. 
Martindale’s return and demand them from him. Until 
then they are in my charge, and I won’t give them up.” 

Jack thought afterwards that he might have spoken 
a little less bluntly; but he wished to put an end to a 
disagreeable interview. His firmness made the Belgian 
angry. 

“Ver’ well, ver’ well!” he said, flushing with annoy- 
ance. “You will suffer for dis. You not recognize my 
right: veil, Capitaine Van Vorst, an officer of de State, 
is coming up de river; he have right; and I say, Mr. 
Chon Shalloner, you shall be arrest and made to pay 
heavy amende — if not put in prison.” 

Jack’s bow was a courteous intimation that the inter- 
view was ended. But the Belgian caught the flicker of 
a smile on his face, and flung away in a rage, which he 
made no attempt to disguise. Jack’s sentries, who again 
brought their rifles to the salute, shrank back before 
Elbel’s scowl as he passed out of the gate. 

Jack was not ill pleased with the result of the inter- 
view. You have always scored a point when the enemy 
loses his temper. Apparently Elbel did not intend to 
130 


SAMBA COMES BACK 


take strong measures himself. He knew the weakness 
of his position. The situation would be changed if a 
State officer was indeed on his way up the river: but 
Jack did not allow himself to be disturbed by Elbel’s 
threat ; his uncle would doubtless be back in a few days, 
and Jack had unbounded faith in Mr. Martindale’s judg- 
ment and discretion. 

From that time he took care that either Barney or 
himself should be always in the stockaded camp. His 
men had become a well-disciplined force, but he could 
not answer for their being able to act discreetly towards 
a white man whom they had reason to dread. 

For a day or two there was no sign of hostility from 
Elbel. He did not repeat his visit, which Jack did not 
feel called upon to return. But news came from Ilola 
that, while the Belgian’s arrival had checked the ghastly 
ferocities of the forest guards, the chicotte had been still 
more freely in play than before. Every man whose bas- 
ket did not contain the requisite five kilos of rubber, or 
the quality of whose rubber did not approve itself to 
Elbel, was unmercifully flogged. Those with whom no 
fault could, on any pretext, be found, were paid with per- 
haps a piece of cloth or some trumpery article which 
was useless to them and which, in many cases, they 
threw away. 

Imbono sent word one day that the most distant of his 
villages had been burnt. It contained a hundred adult 
male inhabitants, but only fifty had brought rubber to 
Ilola, the remainder having been engaged in hunting 
down a herd of elephants which had been ravaging their 
crops. Elbel had refused to accept the explanation. He 
had retained the fifty men as hostages and sent a detach- 
ment of his forest guards to bring in the unruly fifty 
and burn their village down. Jack could only express 
his sympathy ; he felt that there was nothing to be done, 

131 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


One morning Barney, who acted as storekeeper of the 
camp, reported that food was running short. 

“Well, Imbono will supply us,” replied Jack. 

“Beggin’ your pardon, sorr, Imbono has little enough 
for himself since Elbel and his blackguards came to the 
place. The thieving villains will have the best, and divil 
a ha’penny do they pay for it.” 

“We must have food. When I was at Akumbi the 
other day I saw a good crop of ground-nuts. I’ll go 
over myself and see if I can arrange for a supply.” 

Akumbi was the smallest of the chief’s villages, situate 
about five miles up the river. Jack set off early with 
Lepoko, taking the well-worn path through the fringe 
of forest. As he approached the village he heard cries 
of pain. Instinctively he quickened his steps and hurried 
through the gateway in the stockade ; then he came upon 
a scene that made his blood boil. Tied to a tree was a 
youth, who, Lepoko told him, was the son of Lofundo, 
the sub-chief of the village. Elbel was thrashing the 
captive with the chicotte, every lash cutting into the 
quivering flesh and provoking shrieks of agony. Not 
another villager was to be seen; all had fled either into 
their huts or into the forest. 

Infuriated at the sight. Jack forgot all counsels of 
prudence. He rushed towards the spot, peremptorily 
calling on Elbel to desist. The Belgian swung round 
savagely, gave one disdainful look at the interrupter, and 
raised his arm with the intention of putting all his force 
into another stroke. But Jack sprang at the uplifted arm, 
caught Elbel by the wrist and arrested the blow. 
Wrenching himself free, the Belgian, livid with rage, 
made a fierce cut at Jack. He was too near for the 
long lash to have the full effect intended: but Jack felt 
the sting as the flexible thong curled round him. Then 
his attitude changed. Before, he had merely been con- 
132 


SAMBA COMES BACK 


scious of a desire to protect the negro ; now he was afire 
with a personal grievance. Elbel had not time to raise 
the whip for the second stroke. Flinging out his left 
fist, Jack caught him a smashing blow on the cheek, and 
followed it up with a right-hander which hurled him half 
senseless to the ground. Elbel staggered to his feet, pre- 
senting a piteous spectacle, blood streaming from his 
nose, his left eye half closed. He groped for his re- 
volver, but the sight of Jack standing over him pale 
but determined, revolver in hand, ready for the next 
move, cowed him. He fumbled for a few seconds at his 
belt, then slunk away without a word. 

The village compound was immediately filled with a 
crowd of natives, who poured out of the huts whence 
they had secretly watched the scene. Jack was over- 
whelmed with protestations of gratitude. He cut the boy 
loose and restored him, bleeding from the lash, to his 
father. Then he extricated himself from the excited 
throng, took Lofundo aside, waived his demonstrations, 
and, completing the business on which he had come, left 
the village as soon as he could. Now that the heat of 
the moment was passed, he feared that he had not done 
the villagers or himself any good. A personal affray 
with Elbel was the last thing he would have desired ; and 
though he felt he could hardly have acted otherwise than 
he had done, he was in anything but an elated mood 
when he returned to his camp. 

He at once told Barney of what had occurred, and 
spoke of his misgivings. 

“Arrah, thin, sorr,’' said the Irishman, ‘T do not 
see any cause for disthress at all, at all. The villain got 
his deserts and ’twill tache him a lesson. Sure, I’d like 
to have seen his face, the spalpeen!” 

“But I’d no right to interfere, Barney; you can’t get 
over that.” 


133 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“Beggin^ your pardon, sorr, I do not agree wid that 
at all. Ye may say that a father has a right to thrash 
his children; ’twas the holy Solomon himself said so! 
But if he lays it on too heavy, the law steps in and says 
‘Hands off!’ A farmer has a right to get work out uv 
his horse; but if he overtaxes the poor baste, the law 
steps in again and says ‘No more uv that!’ These poor 
niggers seem to have to work widout fair pay, and pay 
rent into the bargain. That’s more than an Irishman 
would stand ; and when the nigger-driver begins to maul 
’em as well, worse than poor dumb beasts widout souls 
uv their own — ^be jabers! sorr, what would I do if I 
saw a man ill-treating my Pat? I would knock him 
down, sorr, if he was the Lord Liftinent hihself!” 

The fact that several days passed without any sign 
of resentment or vengeance on Elbel’s part did not make 
Jack less uneasy. So far from his trouncing having a 
deterrent effect, the treatment of the natives became 
steadily worse. Things were following the inevitable 
course. The vines in the neighborhood of the village 
had yielded all the rubber of which they were at present 
capable, and the men had to go continually farther 
afield. This necessitated their remaining for days at a 
time away from their homes, in improvised shelters which 
afforded poor protection against the weather and the wild 
beasts. They had to put up with indifferent food that 
afforded scanty nourishment. When, having collected the 
rubber, they returned at last to their villages, they could 
only remain there a couple of days, for the next demand 
was upon them. Meanwhile, their families had been at 
the mercy of the forest guards. Day by day complaints 
came to Jack from Imbono of the brutalities of these ruf- 
fians, some of them so horrible that his whole being 
quivered with passionate indignation. Why did not his 

134 



J33 


The sight of Jack cowed him 







SAMBA’ COMES BACK 


uncle return? How long must he remain helpless here, 
unable to lift a hand in defense of the oppressed? 

One evening, just as he had retired to rest, he was 
awakened by Barney and told that a strange negro had 
come to the gate and asked admittance. He had specially 
desired to see the Inglesa. Jack sent word that the man 
was to be brought to him, and awaited his coming out- 
side the hut. 

The negro came up in charge of Lepoko. By the light 
of his electric torch Jack saw a tall man, so much emaci- 
ated that he appeared almost a skeleton. His cheeks were 
sunken in, his arms and legs were no thicker than a 
child’s. And what was this ? The man held up one arm ; 
the hand was gone! 

“Who is he?” asked Jack, shuddering at the sight of 
the half-healed stump. 

“Him call Batukuno, sah. Come from Nsongo. Him 
carry baumba ^ to brudder, sah ; Ekila, him forest guard, 
meet Batukuno, say ‘Gib me baumba/ Batukuno say ‘No 
can do: me carry to brudder.’ Rubber day come. Ba- 
tukuno bring basket; Ekila say ‘Rubber too much bad, 
Batukuno?’ Batukuno say ‘No bad at all, good rubber 
all same.’ Ekila laugh, sah : cut off Batukuno him hand.” 

“Just in revenge for not getting the baumba?” 

“Rebenge, sah, rebenge, all same.” 

“But how came he here?” 

“Boy Samba, sah. Him tell Batukuno Inglesa massa 
good white man, brudder Tanalay, oh yes! Inglesa no 
’fraid Boloko, no ’fraid Elobela. Inglesa gib Batukuno 
hut, gib food, gib plenty fings. Him come long long 
way; hurt berrah much, sah, berrah sick; want eat, no 
can find nuff. Him hide long time ’cos ’fraid Boloko. 


1 Riches. 


135 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Now hab got massa: no ’fraid no more: Boloko, Elobela, 
dem Traid now.” 

“Where is Samba, then?” 

“Samba him long, long way; him go find fader and 
mudder.” 

“I was right after all,” said Jack, turning to Barney. 
“Fm glad to hear the boy’s alive. Well, Lepoko, take 
Batukuno to one of the huts and give him some supper. 
Another sign of King Leopold’s fatherly treatment, Bar- 
ney! Uncle said they cut the hands from the dead, but 
it appears that the living are mutilated, too.” 

“The curse of Cromwell on them, sorr. But, beggin’ 
your pardon, you made a mistake.” 

“How’s that?’^ 

“Sure, you said it was my Irish-English that sent 
Samba away.” 

“Did I?” said Jack, laughing. “I’d forgotten it. He’s 
a capital little fellow, Barney. Fancy going by himself 
that long journey through the forest to find his people! 
And yet there are fools who think that because a man is 
black he hasn’t feelings or affections like ourselves.” 

Batukuno was only the firstfruits of Samba’s mis- 
sionary zeal. From day to day, men, women, and 
children began to drop in at Jack’s camp, many of them 
mutilated, all showing terrible signs of ill-usage and pri- 
vation. Some were survivors of Samba’s own people, the 
villagers of Banonga, but they numbered among them 
men from other tribes. Some had heard of the benevo- 
lent Inglesa from Samba’s own lips; others, from people 
he had told. Among them was an old chief who appeared 
heartbroken at having been compelled to leave his coun- 
try. 

“Why did I leave, you ask, O white man !” he said, in 
reply to a question of Jack’s. “In the morning, bullets: 
in the evening, bullets. They shot our mouths away, 


SAMBA COMES BACK 


they shot through our hearts and our sides. They robbed 
us of everything we had. Why should we stay to be 
killed like that? That is why I ran away.” 

“Were many of your people killed?” 

“Ah, ah!” he replied, “once we were as bafumba^ in 
multitude: now we are only as these.” 

He spread out his fingers twice or thrice. 

“And they have been killed — not dying by the sleep- 
ing sickness?” 

“No. We have lost a few by the sleeping sickness, 
but only a few. It is rubber that has killed our people. 
Botofe bo le iwaT 

Jack's sympathy was keenly enlisted on behalf of 
these unfortunate people. And he could not but smile 
a little whimsically, remembering his uncle's protesta- 
tions, to find that Mr. Martindale was gaining a reputa- 
tion for general philanthropy through a large section of 
the Upper Congo territory. But as the stream of fugi- 
tives showed no signs of diminishing, he began to feel 
a certain embarrassment. It was all very well to open 
a cave Adullam for every one that was distressed, to 
start a hospital for the halt and lame and blind; but the 
space he had at command within his stockade was lim- 
ited; already the huts he had reserved for Mr. Martin- 
dale and his men were occupied, and every fugitive 
meant another mouth to feed. He feared, too, lest the 
peace and order of his settlement should be disturbed 
by the influx of so many idle strangers. And more than 
all, he feared that some of the poor wretches who sought 
asylum with him would fall into the hands of Elbel. It 
was that consideration that induced him to refuse none 
who sought admittance. Elbel had been absent for some 
days from Ilola, and the fugitives, by choosing always 


1 Driver ants. 


137 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


the fall of night to approach the place, had so far man- 
aged to elude observation by their enemies. But that 
could not continue ; the presence of strangers in Ilombik- 
jambua must soon become known to Elbel; then a watch 
would be set, and the wanderers would be intercepted. 
What their fate then would be Jack knew too well. None 
suffered so terribly at the hands of the forest guards 
as people caught straying from their villages. Such ab- 
sences interfered with the regularity of the rubber supply, 
which in turn affected the revenue and reduced profits. 
No runagate serf in medieval Europe was more severely 
dealt with than the Congo native who dares to range 
afield. 

Jack could not hand the people over to Elbel’s tender 
mercies; yet it would soon be impossible to find room 
for more. While he was puzzling how to deal with this 
perplexing situation it was suddenly made still more 
complicated. Early one morning he heard Pat barking 
with more than his usual vigor, and with a note of wild 
pleasure which he had not expressed for many a day. 
Leaving his hut to ask what had happened, he was met 
by the terrier, who ran up to him, leaped this way and 
that, darted off towards the gate, then back again, all 
the time barking with frantic joy. In a moment Jack 
saw the meaning of the dog’s excitement. Samba him- 
self was running towards him! 

The boy flung himself down at Jack’s feet, paying no 
attention even to Pat. 

'T am glad to see you, very glad,” said Jack, in Samba’s 
own tongue. “What have you been doing?” 

His knowledge of the language was not great enough 
to permit him to follow Samba’s answer, poured out as 
it was with great rapidity, and a pitiful earnestness that 
brought a lump to Jack’s throat. But Lepoko was at 
hand, and translated faithfully. 

138 


SAMBA COMES BACK 


Samba was in terrible distress. He had found his 
father and mother, and had brought them through peril 
and privation to the very verge of safety, when they fell 
among a number of forest guards, evidently placed to 
intercept fugitives. All three were taken to Boloko, who 
was beside himself with delight at the sight of his 
brother Mboyo a prisoner. He had a special grudge 
against him, dating from their old rivalry in Banonga. 
Elbel had just returned from a visit to outlying villages. 
The prisoners had been carried before him, and when 
Boloko explained who they were, the Belgian ordered 
them to be tied up, and sentenced them to be thrashed 
publicly on the next day. Samba had contrived to es- 
cape from custody, and had now come to implore the 
Inglesa to save his parents. They were so worn but by 
their long journey, so ill from the hardships they had 
suffered, that they would certainly die under the whip. 

“Poor little fellow!’’ said Jack, laying his hand sooth- 
ingly on the boy’s head. “The whipping is to be to-mor- 
row? You are sure?” 

“Yes : the white man would be absent this day ; he 
would not return till the evening. The flogging was 
fixed for dawn on the following morning.” 

“Come into my hut; we will see what can be done. 
Barney, you come, too.” 

“Niggers have no feelings!” said Barney, releasing 
Pat from the grasp in which he had been struggling 
while Samba told his story. “Begorra! they might as 
well say the same of dogs!” 


139 


CHAPTER XIII 


HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 

Jack felt himself in a distressing predicament. Could 
he allow Samba’s father and mother, for whom he sus- 
pected the boy must have made heroic exertions, to un- 
dergo a punishment which, as he had learned from more 
than one of the refugees, frequently ended in the death 
of the victim? Yet how prevent it? Whatever might 
be urged against it, the use of the chicotte had become 
established as a recognized instrument of administration 
in the Congo Free State. As a stranger and a foreigner 
he had, to begin with, no right to interfere, and his pre- 
vious relations with Elbel had been such that a protest 
and an attempt at dissuasion would be equally useless. 
His action on behalf of Lofundo’s son had been taken 
on the spur of the moment; it would not dispose Elbel 
to pay any attention to calmer and more deliberate means 
now. Even a threat to report him would probably have 
no effect on the Belgian. He was merely doing what the 
officers of the State or the officials of the trusts holding 
authority from the State were accustomed to do, whether 
by themselves or their agents. A protest from Jack 
would merely aggravate the punishment of the wretched 
people. 

Although Elbel had not taken any open step against 
Jack since their last meeting, the latter felt assured that 
he was nursing his spite and only awaiting a favorable 
opportunity to indulge it. Indeed, it was likely that 
something had already been done. Perhaps Elbel was in 
140 


HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 


communication with Boma. He had mentioned that a 
captain of the State forces was on his way up the river; 
for all that Jack knew, the officer might deal very sum- 
marily with him when he arrived. That Elbel would 
tamely endure the humiliation he had suffered, Jack did 
not for a moment believe. 

Jack put these points to Barney. 

'Tf I can do anything for Samba's people," he added, 
*T must be prepared to back up my demands by force, 
and that will mean bloodshed. I can’t run the risk, Bar- 
ney. Uncle left me in charge, and, as I’ve told you, said 
I wasn’t to fight except in self-defense." 

^^Bedad, sorr, but he’d fight himself if he were here." 

“That may be, but I can’t take the responsibility." 

“Can not we get the people out of the scoundrel’s 
clutches widout fighting, sorr? The bhoy escaped, t6 
be sure." 

“True; how did you get away. Samba?" 

The boy explained that he had been imprisoned sepa- 
rately from his parents : he did not know why. They had 
been chained by the neck and fastened to a tree in front 
of Boloko’s hut; he had been roped by the ankle and 
secured to another tree farther away. In the middle of 
the night he had wriggled and strained at his bonds 
until, after much toil and pain, he had released his foot. 
Then when the sentry’s back was turned, he had slipped 
away, stolen behind the huts, and with great difficulty 
clambered over the stockade. 

“And are your parents still chained to the tree?" 

Samba did not know. He had not ventured to ap- 
proach them after releasing himself, for his sole hope was 
in the Inglesa, and if he were recaptured he knew that 
his parents’ fate was sealed. But if the Inglesa wished 
he would steal back into the village and see if the prison- 
ers were still at the same spot. 

141 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“That will never do,” said Jack. “The-boy would cer- 
tainly be caught, Barney.” 

“That’s the truth, sorr. But ’tis the morning for Lin- 
gombela to go to the village for eggs; could he not find 
out what you wish to know ?” 

“He’s a discreet fellow. Yes, let him try. He must 
be very careful. I wonder that Elbel has not forbidden 
our men to go into the village; and if he suspects any 
interference there’ll be trouble.” 

Barney went out to send Lingombela on his errand. 
Meanwhile, Jack got Samba to tell him, through Lepoko, 
how he had found his parents. The boy gave briefly 
the story of his wanderings, his perils from the wild 
beasts of the forest, his hunger and want, his capture by 
the Bambute, his escape, his adventure with the croco- 
dile ; his second capture and more successful escape 
under cover of a great forest storm. 

Jack was deeply impressed at the time; but many of 
the details came to him later from others, and each new 
fact added to his admiration for the indomitable young 
traveler. 

The pygmies who had captured Samba at the river were 
a different tribe from those with whom he had lived in 
the forest. Like those, however, they made much of him, 
giving him plenty of food, but never letting him go out 
of their sight. One night, a fierce tempest swept through 
the forest,^ snapping great trees and whirling them about 
like feathers. Thunder crashed, lightning cut black paths 
through the foliage; and the Bambute cowered in their 
huts, dreading lest these should be crushed by a falling 
tree or scorched by the lightning’s flame, yet feeling 
safer within than without. But Samba rejoiced in the 
elemental disturbance. Reckless of the terrors of the 
storm in his fixed determination to escape, he stole out 
when the uproar was at its height and plunged into the 
142 


HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 


forest. All other peril was banished by the fury of the 
tempest. Once he passed a leopard within a few feet, but 
the beast was too much scared by the lightning to seize 
the opportunity of securing an easy meal. 

After many days of wandering and privation, Samba 
came within a day’s journey of what had been his vil- 
lage. Stumbling accidentally upon one of his fellow 
villagers, he told him his story, and was taken by him to 
a cave in the forest where several of the fugitives from 
Banonga were in hiding, some badly wounded. Samba 
came to them like a sunbeam. What he told them about 
Mr. Martindale gave them courage and hope. Some set 
off at once to seek out the Inglesa, whose praise Samba 
was so loud in singing ; they would implore his protec- 
tion; others, more timorous or less hardy, dreading the 
long and toilsome journey, resolved to remain where 
they were, for they were at least in no straits for food. 
None of them could give Samba any news of his parents: 
so, after remaining a day or two with them, he went on 
alone. 

He reached the site of the desolated village in the even- 
ing, and took refuge in the branches of a tree. His in- 
tention was to push on next day and search the forest 
beyond the village. But with morning light something 
impelled him to wander round the scene of his happy 
childhood. Here had stood his father’s hut; there, not 
far away, the old chief Mirambo had dwelt. It seemed 
to Samba that the place was altered in appearance since 
he had left it in company with Mr. Martindale. An at- 
tempt had been made to repair the ruins of Mirambo’s 
hut. Somewhat startled. Samba approached it curiously, 
and was still more startled to hear low groans proceed- 
ing from a spot where a corner of the site had been cov- 
ered with rough thatch. Entering, he discovered with 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


mingled joy and terror that his father and mother lay 
there, nearly dead from wounds and starvation. 

With the negro’s instinct for returning to his old 
haunts, Mboyo had come back to Banonga, and managed 
to rig up a precarious shelter in his father’s shattered 
hut. Then his strength failed him. He had been 
wounded in the attack on the village, but had made good 
his escape to the forest with his favorite wife. His other 
wives and children had disappeared; of them he never 
heard again. The unwonted exposure soon told upon 
his wife Lukela ; she fell ill, and, weakened as Mboyo was 
by his wounds, they were unable to scour the forest as 
they might otherwise have done for food. As the days 
passed their condition had gone from bad to worse, and 
at last they had painfully, despairingly, made their way 
back to their old home to die. 

But Samba did not mean them to die. He set himself 
at once to rescue them. As he knew well, there was 
little or no food near by ; the wanton destruction of plan- 
tations had been very thorough. They were too weak to 
travel. He emptied his tin, to which he had clung through 
all his wanderings, of the food it contained, and, making 
a rough barrier for them against wild beasts, cheered 
them with hopeful words and started back on his tracks 
for a further supply of food. 

When he reached the cavern where he had left his 
fellow villagers, he found it empty. Apparently, even 
the timid ones had set off to seek the protection of the 
good Inglesa. He could do nothing that night, but next 
morning he went down to the stream whence they had 
obtained their supply of fish and plied his spear until he 
had caught several. Then he made the long journey 
back, filling his tin as he went with berries and nuts 
and anything else from which nourishment could be 
obtained. His parents were already a little better, thanks 

144 


HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 


to the food he had given them, and perhaps also to the 
new spirit awakened in them by the unexpected arrival 
of their dearly-loved son. 

Thus for several days Samba watched over them, 
making long journeys for food. Each time that he left 
them his absence became more prolonged ; food was 
harder to get, and he was less able to hunt for it. While 
his parents slowly regained a little strength Samba weak- 
ened from day to day. At last he could scarcely drag 
one foot after the other ; he was worn out by the terrible 
fatigue of constant marching through the forest, and 
by want of sleep, for he stinted himself of rest so that 
his parents jjiight be left alone as little as possible. More 
than once he sank exhausted to the ground, feeling that 
he could go no farther, do no more. His strength was 
spent; his head swam with dizziness; a mist gathered 
before his eyes. Thus he would remain, half conscious, 
perhaps for minutes, perhaps for hours; he knew not; 
he had lost count of time. Then, with the enforced rest, 
the small remnant of his strength returned to him, and 
with it the memory of his parents’ plight. Upon him 
depended the life of the two beings he held dearest in the 
world. As the perils to which they were exposed were 
borne in upon his feverish intelligence he would struggle 
to his feet, and grope his way painfully along the forest 
track, his feet blistered, his flesh torn with spikes and 
thorns, above all, a dreadful gnawing hunger within him, 
for he would scarcely spare himself sufficient food for 
bare sustenance while his parents were ill and in want. 

This dark and terrible period was illumined by one ray 
of hope. His weariness and toil were bearing fruit. 
Day by day his parents grew stronger; in a fortnight 
they were able to move about, and a week later they were 
ready to start for the cavern. But now it was Samba 
who required attendance. He could walk only a few 

145 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


yards at a time, supported by Mboyo, who almost de- 
spaired of reaching the cavern before starvation again 
overtook them. But the weary journey was completed 
at last; and after a few days’ stay at the cavern, within 
easier reach of food, the party became fit to undertake 
a longer march, and set out hopefully for Mr. Martin- 
dale’s camp. 

Jack could only conjecture what the terrors of that 
march had been, for before Samba’s story was finished 
Lepoko returned from the village. He reported that Elo- 
bela, furious at the boy’s escape, had announced that he 
would double the punishment to be meted out A:o his 
parents. This practice of striking at children through 
parents and at parents through children was so much 
the rule in the Congo system of tax collection that Jack 
did not doubt Elbel would carry out his threat. Mean- 
while the two prisoners had been removed from the open 
air before Boloko’s hut at the far side of the village, and 
conveyed to a stoutly-built fetish hut near the stockade. 
This change of quarters had provoked murmurs not only 
from the villagers, but from Elbel’s own men. The fetish 
hut was sacred to the medicine man of the village, and 
even he affected to approach it with fear and trembling. 
The whole population was talking about the desecration 
of the hut by the presence of the two captives ; men were 
shaking their heads and saying that something would 
happen, and the medicine man himself — a hideous figure 
with his painted skin — did not fail to seize the opportu- 
nity of inflaming the minds of the villagers against the 
impious white men. But no one ventured to remonstrate 
with Elbel. He, meanwhile, had gone off with a number 
of forest guards to an outlying village, leaving orders 
that the captives were to be guarded with particular vigi- 
lance. 


146 


HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 


Samba's face was an image of despair as he listened to 
Lepoko’s report. *‘What hope was there of his parents' 
rescue now?" 

“Poor little chap!" said Jack. “After going through 
so much for them he’ll be heartbroken if he loses them 
now. What can we do for him, Barney ?" 

“Faith, I can see nothing for it, sorr, but to lead a 
storming party. And I would go first, wid the greatest 
pleasure in life." 

“That's out of the question, especially as Elbel’s away. 
All's fair in war, they say, Barney: but I shouldn’t like 
to attaqk the village in Elbel’s absence. In any case, I 
don’t want to fight if there’s any other way. Samba, run 
away with Pat ; don’t go beyond the gate ; I want to see 
if I can think of any way of helping your parents." 

Both the white men were touched by the boy’s wistful 
look as he left the hut. Jack stuck his legs out straight 
in front of him, plunged his hands into his pockets, and 
bent his head upon his breast as he pondered and puz- 
zled. Barney sat for a time, leaning forward with 
his elbow on his knee, smoking an old clay pipe. But 
he soon tired of inaction, and, rising, proceeded to open 
a tin of oatmeal biscuits in anticipation of lunch. He had 
just wrenched the lid off when Jack sprang up with a 
sudden laugh and slapped him on the shoulder. 

“I have it, Barney!" he cried. “They said something 
would happen; well, they were right: something shall 
happen, old man. And it’s your doing!" 

“Mine, sorr! Niver a thing have I done this blessed 
day save smoke me pipe and just this very minute tear 
a hole in my hand wid this confounded tin." 

“That's it, Barney! It was the tin gave me the idea. 
You know how giants are made for the Christmas panto- 
mimes ?” 

“Divil a bit, sorr." 


147 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“Well, don’t look so surprised. Empty that tin of bis- 
cuits while I tell you, and when that’s empty, open an- 
other and do the same.” 

“Bedad, sorr, but all the biscuits will spoil.” 

“Let ’em spoil, man, let ’em spoil. No, I don’t mean 
that, but at present I think more of the tissue paper in 
those tins than of the biscuits. We’ll make a framework, 
Barney; any stalks or sticks will do for that; and cover 
it with that tissue paper, and paint a giant’s face and 
shoulders on the paper, and we must find some colored 
glass or something for the eyes, and something white 
for the teeth. We have some candles left, luckily. Don’t 
you think, Barney, a lighted candle behind the paper 
would make a very decent sort of bogie ?” 

“And is that the way, sorr, they make the giants at 
the pantomime?” 

“Something like that, Barney. But what do you think 
of the idea?” 

“ ’Tis the divil’s own cleverness in it, sorr. But I’ll 
niver enjoy a pantomime any more, now that I know the 
way ’tis done. And how will ye go to work wid the bogie, 
sorr?” 

“Why, we’ll make the framework to fit my shoulders. 
Then you’ll see. The first thing is to get it made. Go 
and get the materials. We shall want sticks about three 
feet long, and njogi cane ^ to tie them together, as there 
are no nails here. And you must send over to Imbono 
and ask for some coloring matter. Red and black are all 
we shall need. I don’t know what we shall do for the 
eyes; there’s no colored glass handy, I suppose. We 
must do without if we can’t find anything. Now, hurry 
up, Barney, and send Lepoko to me.” 


1 This abounds in the forest, and is alike nails, string and rope 
for the natives. 


148 


HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 


For the rest of the day Jack and Barney were very 
busy in the hut. It was an easy matter to put the bamboo 
framework together. The tissue paper from the two 
biscuit tins proved just sufficient to cover it. When this 
was done, Jack sketched with his pencil as ugly a face as 
his artistic imagination was capable of suggesting, then 
laid on the pigments with his shaving-brush, no other 
being at hand. He gave the giant very thick red lips, 
opened in a hideous grin, heightening the effect by care- 
fully tying in a number of goat’s teeth. The eyes pre- 
sented a difficulty. No colored glass could be found 
among any of the villagers’ treasures, and after several 
attempts to supply its place with leaves, petals of red 
flowers, and glass beads stuck together. Jack decided that 
the best effect would be made by leaving the eye-slits 
empty. The making of the bogie was kept a close secret 
between himself and Barney, but he got some of his men 
to make two light bamboo ladders, which they did with 
great expedition, wondering not a little to what use 
Lokolobolo would put them. 

In the afternoon, as soon as he was assured that his 
bogie would turn out a success. Jack sent Lepoko into 
Ilola to foment the villagers’ fear that the desecration 
of the fetish hut would certainly be followed by a visit 
from the offended spirit. He was to talk very seriously 
of a great medicine man he had once met on the coast, 
who knew all about the spirits of the streams and woods, 
and those who protected the forest villages. One of these 
spirits, said the medicine man, took the form of a giant, 
and any mortal upon whom he breathed would surely die. 
Jack knew that this story would be repeated by the vil- 
lagers to the forest guards, and would soon be the prop- 
erty of the whole community. Reckoning upon the fact 
that Elbel had his quarters near the gate of the stockade, 
and that the fetish hut was cn the opposite side of the 


149 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


inclosure, not far from the stockade itself, so that the 
whole width of the village separated them. Jack hoped 
to create such a panic among the superstitious sentries 
that he would have time to free the captives before Elbel 
could intervene. 

At dead of night, when he believed that the enemy 
must be sound asleep. Jack left his camp silently, accom- 
panied only by Samba. He himself carried the bogie; 
the boy had the ladders. But even his own parents 
would not have recognized the Samba of this midnight 
sortie. Jack had been much interested on the way up 
the Congo by a kind of acacia which, when cut with an 
ax, exudes a sticky substance emitting in the darkness 
a strong phosphorescent glow. With this substance a 
series of rings had been drawn on Samba’s body, and he 
wore on his head a number of palm leaves arranged like 
the Prince of Wales’ feathers, smeared with the same 
sticky material. Samba kept close behind Jack to 
avoid observation, and the two made their way stealthily 
around the village, keeping within the fringe of the 
encircling forest. Then Jack fixed the bogie upon his 
shoulders, lighted the candles, placed in sconces of twigs 
cunningly constructed by Barney, and crept forward 
towards the stockade, closely followed by Samba, both 
bending low so as to escape observation before the right 
moment. 

Lepoko had reported that two sentries had been placed 
over the fetish hut. Jack guessed that by this time their 
nerves would be at pretty high tension, and that they 
would not improbably be keeping a safe distance from 
the awful place they had been set to guard. One of the 
ladders was planted by Samba against the stockade. On 
this Jack mounted, and the hideous countenance rose 
slowly and majestically above the palisade. 

150 


HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 

A small oil lamp swung from the eaves of the hut. 
By its light Jack saw the two sentries some distance 
away, but near enough to keep an eye on the entrance 
so that the inmates could not break out unnoticed. At 
first they did not see the apparition. To quicken their 
perception, Jack gave a weird chuckle — a sound that 
would have startled sturdy English school-boys in the 
depth of night. The negroes turned round instantly; 
there was one moment of silence: then each uttered a 
fearful yell and both rushed helter-skelter into the dark- 
ness. 

Taking the second ladder from Samba, Jack calmly 
descended on the other side, and was quickly followed 
by the boy. The latter made straight for the fetish hut. 
A light shone through the entrance immediately he had 
entered ; there was a muffled shriek ; then voices in rapid 
talk, followed by the sound of heavy hammering. By 
the light of Jack’s electric torch Samba was breaking the 
fetters. 

By this time the whole village was astir. At the first 
instant of alarm every man, woman and child gave ut- 
terance to a yell ; but as soon as they caught sight of the 
dreadful apparition, the vengeful spirit whose visit had 
been predicted, the giant with hideous jaw and flaming 
eyes, they ceased their cries, and huddled in awe-struck 
silence across the compound towards the gate. 

Slowly Samba’s parents limped out of the hut after 
him, and with his assistance mounted the ladder and de- 
scended on the other side of the stockade. Jack had 
bidden Samba take them for a time into the forest. To 
harbor them in his camp would involve embroilment 
with Elbel, a thing to be avoided if possible. They had 
barely disappeared in the darkness when a shot rang 
out, and Jack felt something strike the framework above 
his head. Elbel had been awakened from sleep by the 
15 -' 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


first yell, but on leaving his hut found himself enveloped 
in so thick a crowd of quivering, panic-stricken negroes 
that he could neither see what had caused their alarm 
nor get an answer to his irritable questions. The delay 
had been just long enough to allow the prisoners to 
escape. 

Jack heard Elbel’s voice raging at the people. As 
another shot whizzed by he reached up and extinguished 
the candles, then slipped over the stockade, drawing the 
ladder after him. Burdened with the bogie and the two 
ladders, he hastened away into the forest. For some min- 
utes he wandered about, missing the guidance of Samba, 
who was with his parents. At length he struck the path, 
and, making his best speed, he regained his camp. Barney 
was awaiting him at the gate with loaded rifle, the 
trained men drawn up under arms. 

“The bogie did it he cried, feeling very hot and tired, 
now that his task was accomplished. 

“Praise be!” ejaculated Barney. “Eyes front! Pre- 
sent arrms! Dismiss!” 


153 


CHAPTER XIV 


LOKOLOBOLO’S FIRST FIGHT 

‘T am afraid we are in for it, now,’' said Jack, as he sat 
with Barney, when the camp had become quiet, discuss- 
ing the situation. “Elbel will know well enough who 
played the bogie, and he has now a distinct grievance 
against me. I wonder what he will do.” 

‘T would not disthress meself about it at all, sorr,” 
said Barney. “He had a peep at a Pepper’s ghost widout 
paying for a ticket, and ’tis himself that ought to be 
plased.” 

“Don’t you ever have a fit of the dumps, Barney? 
You seem to live always in the top of spirits.” 

“What would be the good uv being anything else, 
sorr ? I’ve too little flesh on me bones, now ; what would 
I be if I grizzled?” 

“I’m glad enough, I assure you. I don’t know what 
I should have done without you. Uncle little imagined 
what he was leaving me to. Do you think anything has 
happened to him ? It is three months since he went away, 
and five weeks since I had any news of him. I am get- 
ting anxious.” 

“ ’Tis true he is behind, like the cow’s tail, sorr. And 
’tis myself can explain it. Ye see, sorr. I’ve noticed wan 
thing about these niggers. Time is not much to an Irish- 
man, to be sure, but ’tis less than nothing to a nigger. 
They don’t keep count uv the days; an almanac would 
be clean beyond them, and ’tis my belief Nando has just 
put the master back a month, sorr, unbeknown,” 

153 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“That’s an original explanation, at any rate. But by 
Jove ! here’s Samba again. What does he want now ?” 

“Him say mudder lib for plenty sick, sah,” said Le- 
poko, called in to interpret. “Mudder plenty tired fust; 
muss stand all de night in hut; no gib no food; her no 
can go more; tumble down in forest. Samba say please 
massa let fader and mudder come ; please, please massa, 
please massa; him say please massa plenty too much all 
time.” 

“We must have them in, I suppose,” said Jack, unable 
to resist the appeal in Samba’s eyes and gestures. “I 
didn’t want them here; they only add to our dangers 
and difficulties. Let him fetch them, Lepoko; he must 
be careful; if they are captured again, they are sure to 
be shot.” 

Samba’s face shone with delight. He scampered 
away. An hour passed before he returned. Mboyo was 
carrying his wife in his arms; she was in the last stage 
of exhaustion. They were given shelter in Lepoko’s 
hut; and that night, when Samba curled himself up to 
sleep with Pat, he was a happy boy for the first time for 
many weeks. 

Jack had but just finished his breakfast next morning 
when a note was brought him from Elbel. 

Monsieur : 

On m’a fait informer qtie les deux personnes echappees de 
ce village sont a present refugiees dans votre camp. Ja’i Thon- 
neur de vous demander de rendre ces personnes immediatemcnt 
en outre le gar^on dont j’ ai deja demandc la rendition. Au 
cas que lesdit sujets de TEtat du Congo no soient pas ramenes 
dans ce village avant midi cejourd’hui, je serai oblige de faire 
telles demarches a leur egard que me puissent sembler bonnes. 

Agreez monsieur, Tassurance da ma consideration distinguee. 

Elbel, 

Agent de la Societe Cosmopolite du Commerce du Congo. 

154 


LOKOLOBOLO’S FIRST FIGHT 


“What do you think of this, Barney? He says he^s 
been told that two persons who escaped from Ilola are 
now in my camp. He has the honor to request that I will 
give them up at once. Listen. Tn case the said subjects 
of the Congo State are not brought back to his village 
by noon to-day, I shall be compelled to take such steps 
in regard to them as may seem good.’ Very precise and 
formal. My answer shall be a little shorter.” 

He lost no time in penning his reply. He wrote : 

Sir: 

The three people you mention are with me. I shall be glad 
to learn the offense with which they are charged, and by what 
authority you take it upon yourself to try them and punish them. 

Yours truly, 

John Challoner. 

“We shall get no answer to that, Barney.” 

But he was mistaken. A second note was brought him 
in which Elbel refused to explain or justify his actions 
to Monsieur Challoner. He was responsible to his So- 
ciete and to the administration of the Free State. He 
repeated his threat that at twelve o’clock, failing com- 
pliance with his demand, he would take steps to recover 
the fugitives, and concluded by saying that Monsieur 
Challoner must be answerable for the consequences. 

“The fat’s in the fire now, sorr,” said Barney, when 
Jack had translated this letter to him. “I suppose you’ll 
just say, 'Go, and be hanged,’ in answer to that?” 

“No. I shan’t answer it on paper. The crisis has come 
at last, Barney. I couldn’t attack Elbel yesterday and be 
responsible for the first blow. But things are changed 
now. His action in regard to these poor people is sheer 
persecution; they’ve sought my protection, and no Eng- 
lishman that I eve’- heard of has given up a wretch flee- 
ing from persecution. We’ll have to stand firm now, 

155 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Barney. Elbel shan’t get hold of them, I can tell you, if 
I can prevent it.” 

‘T’m wid ye, sorr, heart and soul. Sure, an Irishman 
is not the man to stand by and see poor people ill-treated. 
What’ll we do to get ready for him, sorr?” 

“You can go and get some of the men to rig up plat- 
forms at several points inside the stockade. What a 
lucky thing it was we taught ’em how to board and floor 
the huts! These planks will come in handy now. And 
stay : set two or three men to bore loopholes in the stock- 
ade— not our riflemen: the men who’ve lost their right 
hands can manage that, perhaps, with their left if they 
try. Meanwhile, parade the riflemen. I’ll come out to 
them in a few minutes.” 

When the men were paraded. Jack felt very proud of 
his little company. They were all alert, eager, ready. 
Jack explained to them, through Lepoko, what the diffi- 
culty was. 

“I don’t want you to fight against your will,” he said ; 
“if any man is unwilling to fight he may leave the camp 
if he chooses, or remain and do any other work required. 
But if he elects to fight he must obey orders, do his best, 
and never give in. You understand that : never give in 1” 

The men responded with loud cries of approval. Not 
a man of them fell out of the ranks. The exercise and 
drill they had undergone had filled them with military 
ardor; they were proud of their new accomplishments, 
and evidently eager to test them in earnest. And the 
State officials were so well hated that the opportunity 
of setting a Belgian at defiance was in itself a sufficient 
motive. Jack paid them a compliment on their readiness 
to serve — the negro dearly loves praise — and after in- 
specting each man’s rifle and ammunition, dismissed them 
to various duties until the moment for action arrived. 

156 


LOKOLOBOLO’S FIRST FIGHT 


The day^s water supply had scarcely been got in, and 
there were no vessels at hand for storing a larger -quan- 
tity. The stock of food in the camp was sufficient to keep 
the whole population for three days on full rations; 
and might be eked out for a week or more if each man’s 
allowance was reduced. It was inevitable that the idea 
of a siege should cross Jack’s mind, and he foresaw that 
the difficulty about water would prove serious. Mean- 
while, he could at least send out a few men to obtain 
supplies of food from the chief’s other villages. He chose 
for this errand the men least likely to be useful as fight- 
ers, and impressed on them the necessity of avoiding 
Elbel’s men. It would not be long before Elbel had 
the surrounding country closely patrolled, and then no 
man would be able to approach without taking his life 
in his hand. What supplies they should succeed in col- 
lecting were to be held concealed in the forest until there 
was an opportunity of conveying them into the camp 
without danger. 

There were now within his stockade, besides himself 
and Barney, twenty-two men armed with rifles ; the chief 
Mboyo, with his wife and Samba ; fifteen men, ten women, 
and twenty-five children who had sought asylum with 
him; and the live stock of the natives — a few goats and 
fowls. Pat was one by himself. Jack had rifles for twenty 
men besides the twenty-two, but the fugitives were too 
much maimed, or too much reduced in strength by their 
sufiferings, to make it seem worth while to arm them. 
Four or five, however, had recovered very rapidly, and 
seemed likely to prove useful recruits. They had at any 
rate enough reason for fighting well ; not only on behalf 
of their chief, but in memory of their own sufferings. 
Pending an opportunity of teaching them the use of the 
rifle. Jack armed them with spears and employed them 
as sentries. A careful watch was kept to guard against 
157 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


surprise, which was little likely to occur in broad day- 
light across the wide open space between the two settle- 
ments. 

Jack awaited with no little anxiety the approach of 
noon, trying to forecast Elbel’s course of action. The 
Belgian had, so far as he had been able to gather, about 
sixty men armed with Albini rifles, with probably as 
many hangers-on; but the native’s conceptions of arith- 
metic are so vague that this information could not be re- 
lied on; the actual number might be larger or smaller. 
It was not likely that the followers of the forest guards 
could be utilized as fighting men; but the guards them- 
selves were well armed and full of confidence, for they 
had become accustomed to lording it over the virtually 
unarmed and helpless populace from whose forced labor 
the Congo Free State derives its revenue. Jack was 
quite prepared to find that Elbel, knowing that his op- 
ponent’s men had but recently been armed, and were not, 
like his own men, to all intents professional soldiers, 
would think himself strong enough to rush the camp, 
especially as, since the day of his arrival, the Belgian had 
appeared to show no further interest in the force at 
Jack’s disposal. 

‘Terhaps he thinks we’ve drilled them merely for 
parade,” he remarked with a smile, to Barney. “But I 
think he’ll find we can hold our own. I’m not afraid of 
a direct attack. But if he tries to starve us out it’ll be 
a different matter. I’m bothered about the water.” 

“Be aisy, sorr. Whin I was a bhoy me mother often 
did not know at breakfast-time where the supper was 
coming from; but I only went to bed wance widout it, 
and that was whin I’d eaten it before the time, and was 
put to bed early as a punishment.” 

Soon after twelve o’clock the sentries reported that the 
white man was approaching from the direction of the 
158 


LOKOLOBOLO’S FIRST FIGHT 


village. Jack hastened to the platform near the gate, 
which he had had barricaded, and saw Elbel at the head 
of about forty men, a negro bearing a white flag at his 
side. About fifty yards from the stockade he halted, and 
formally demanded the surrender of the fugitives. In 
phrases as formal as his own. Jack replied that they 
would not be given up. 

While this brief exchange of courtesies was going on, 
the sentries stationed on similar platforms within the 
stockade had turned round with natural curiosity to see 
what was passing, and withdrew their attention from the 
ground they were supposed to be watching. All at once 
Jack felt a tug at his arm, and, looking round, saw Samba 
excitedly pointing to the rear of the camp. A score of 
Elbel’s riflemen were scurrying across the open ground. 
To Jack’s surprise, they were headed by a white man in 
military uniform. Was this the Captain van Vorst, he 
wondered, who, Elbel had told him, was coming up the 
river? Had he to contend with a regular officer of the 
State as well as an official of the Concession ? One thing 
was clear, that while his attention was being held by the 
parade of the men in front, an attempt was being made 
to rush the camp from the rear. 

Jack gave no sign of his discovery, but quietly ordered 
Barney to take ten men with rifles and five with spears 
and deal with the attackers when their heads or hands 
appeared above the stockade. 

“Keep out of sight until they’re upon you,” he added 
in a low tone. “Fifteen men on the platform will be 
equal to more than double their number trying to scram- 
ble over.” 

He had kept his face turned towards Elbel as he spoke, 
apparently intent upon a serious consideration of what 
the Belgian was saying. 


159 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“I warn you. Dis is not child’s play. Vunce more I 
say gif up de people ; den I interfere no more. I am sat- 
isfied. But if you refuse, den I repeat: I will haf de 
people, and you shall see what it is to defy de officers of 
de Free State.” 

Jack was spared the necessity of replying. A series 
of yells and cries of pain told that the rear attack had 
begun. A couple of shots rang out from the trees behind 
Elbel, and Jack, whose head just appeared above the 
stockade, felt one bullet whistle close above his topee, 
while a second embedded itself beside him in one of the 
saplings of which the stockade was constructed. Taken 
in conjunction with the attempted surprise, this was as 
close an approximation to the methods of an assassin 
as could well be imagined; and Jack, as he dodged out 
of harm’s way, felt, not for the first time, that he had to 
deal with a man who was not only astute, but quite un- 
scrupulous. 

In less than a minute the attack on the stockade had 
become general. The assailants showed no want of dash. 
Perhaps they were encouraged by the impunity with 
which they had hitherto made their assaults on native^ 
villages similarly protected. But the conditions were dif- 
ferent now. The defenders were armed with weapons as 
precise and deadly as those of the attackers themselves. 
Elbel’s men came forward at a rush, in a more or less 
compact body, and Jack was amply satisfied with the 
result of his training, as his men, at a sign from him, 
poured a volley through the loopholes bored in the stock- 
ade, while the enemy were still a dozen yards distant. 
Several of them dropped; Jack’s men were completely 
screened from any effectual reply. 

The marked effect of white leadership became apparent 
when the forest guards, scarcely realizing their losses 
in the excitement of their dash towards the stockade, 
i6o 


LOKOLOBOLO’S FIRST FIGHT 


helped one another to swarm up, many effecting a lodg- 
ment on the top. It was at this point that in ninety-nine 
cases out of a hundred the defenders of an African vil- 
lage would have flung away their arms and run. But 
the discipline of the last two months told. At Jack’s 
command, before the enemy on the stockade had made 
their footing sufficiently sure to enable them to use their 
weapons, the men within, clubbing their rifles, sprang at 
them and hurled them to the ground. 

Meanwhile Barney, whom Samba’s watchfulness had 
enabled to forestall the surprise in the rear, had beaten 
off the attack and sent the enemy scurrying for cover. 
Leaving only three or four men under Lepoko to watch 
the position there. Jack was able to bring almost the 
whole of his force to bear on repelling the main attack. 
Elbel had greatly reduced his chances of success by de- 
taching a third of his force ; and he entirely lost their co- 
operation, for when they were repulsed by Barney they 
made no attempt to rally, but simply disappeared from 
the fight. 

Elbel and his men were crouching at the foot of the 
stockade in temporary security, for in that position the 
defenders could not bring their rifles to bear upon them. 
Jack heard him give his men an order; in a few seconds 
a crowd of black heads again appeared above the stock- 
ade, but now some fifty yards from the point where the 
first assault had been made. With Barney at his right 
hand Jack led his men to the spot. From his platform he 
might have shot the attackers down with comparative 
ease : but he was determined from the first to do his best 
to avoid bloodshed, never forgetting his uncle’s injunc- 
tion to use rifles only in the last resort. The enemy had 
no chance of firing themselves, for they no sooner showed 
their heads above the palisade than they were beset by 
the defenders. There was a brisk five minutes in which 

i6i 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Jack and Barney found plenty to do, leading their men 
wherever the show of heads, hands and shoulders over 
the stockade was thickest. Barney was in his element. 
His rifle fell like a flail, and for every blow that got home 
he shouted a wild “Hurroo!’’ which evoked responsive 
yells from the negroes beside him, catching his enthu- 
siasm. Jack’s heart glowed as he saw how stoutly they 
fought. 

It was not until the enemy had made two attempts to 
mount the stockade that they realized how very different 
their present task was from the massacre of unresisting 
men, women and children that had hitherto represented 
their idea of fighting. The first repulse merely surprised 
and enraged them: they could not understand it; they 
were not accustomed to such a reception ; and they yelled 
forth threats of exacting a terrible vengeance. But when 
for the second time they found themselves hurled back 
they had no heart for further effort. Suddenly Elbel 
discovered that he was alone, except for one man lying 
stark beside him ; the rest had scampered across the open 
to the shelter of the nearest trees. 

Jack, watching from his platform, perceived that Elbel 
was not among the retreating crowd. Was he hurt, he 
wondered? The next moment, however, he saw the 
Belgian sprint after his men, bending his head between 
his shoulders as a boy does to avoid a snowball. Several 
of Jack’s men who had joined him oh the platform 
brought their rifles to the shoulder, and only a curt, stern 
order from Jack to drop their weapons saved Elbel from 
almost certain death. 

“Bedad, thin, ’tis a pity not to let them have their way, 
sorr,” expostulated Barney. 

‘That may be,” replied Jack, “but I’m only on the de- 
fensive, remember. We’re in no danger for the present ; 
they’ve had enough of it ; it’s not for me to continue the 
162 


LOKOLOBOLO’S FIRST FIGHT 


fight. I hope Elbel has learned a lesson and will leave us 
alone.” 

“Sure, I do not agree wid you at all, at all, sorr,” 
said Barney, shaking his head. “To judge by the phiz uv 
him, Elbel is a desp’rate, bad character. And isn’t it all 
his deeds that prove it, with his whips and his forest 
guards — blackguards, I call ’em — and all? Why, sorr, 
whin ye knocked him down the other day, why didn’t 
he stand up fair and square and have it out wid ye? 
’Twas an illegant chance which no gentleman, no Irish- 
man, bedad ! would have missed for worlds. Gentleman ! 
’Tis not the fortieth part uv a gentleman he has any- 
where about him. ’Twas not the trick of a gentleman 
to try to take ye by the back stairs while he blarneyed 
ye at the front door. And did he not try to murder ye 
before the fight began ? A dirty trick, sorr ; I would have 
let my men shoot him widout the hundredth part uv a 
scruple.” 

Jack was compelled to smile at Barney’s honest in- 
dignation. 

“All you say is very true,” he said, “but we couldn’t 
take a leaf out of his book, you know, Barney. Besides, 
look at it in another way. Suppose we shot Elbel ? What 
would happen to uncle’s mining venture? There’s an- 
other Belgian here — I wonder where he came from. Ap- 
parently he has skedaddled. He’d certainly go and report 
to the authorities what had happened. You may be sure 
he wouldn’t put our side of the case ; and if he did there’s 
no knowing how the Free State people would twist the 
evidence. They say the Free State judges are completely 
under the thumb of the executive. No doubt Elbel him- 
self — who, I suppose, has to account for the cartridges his 
men use — will report this fight as a little affair with na- 
tives revolting against the rubber collection. He hasn’t 
come well enough out of it to be anxious to call general 

163 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


attention to the matter. WeVe got off with a few bruises, 
I’m thankful to say, and we may very well be satisfied 
to let the quarrel rest there if Elbel takes no further 
steps.” 

Barney shook his head. 

“Ye’re a powerful hand at argyment, sorr,” he said, 
“and ye’d be elected at the top uv the poll if ye stood as 
mimber uv Parlimint for Kilkenny. But an Irishman 
niver goes by argyment: he goes by his feelings, and 
my feeling is that there’s no good at all in a man who 
refuses such an illigant chance uv a stand-up fight.” 

“Well, he’s not altogether a ruffian. Look! there are 
some three of his negroes coming with a flag of truce, 
to fetch the poor fellow who was killed, I expect The 
State officials, as a rule, look on the negro as so much 
dirt; but Elbel seems to have some of the instincts of 
a human being.” 

“Bedad, thin, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re canni- 
bals come for their dinner.” 

“Shut up, Barney. It’s too terrible to think of. You’ll 
take away my appetite ; here’s Samba, coming to tell us, 
I hope, that dinner’s ready.” 

Jack scanned the neighborhood. Save for the negroes 
carrying their dead comrade, there was no sign of the 
enemy. He left two sentries on guard and returned to 
his hut, hot and famished. The sultry heat of the tropi- 
cal afternoon settled down over the camp. Outside the 
stockade all was still ; inside, the natives squatted in front 
of their huts, volubly discussing the incidents of the 
morning, and watching the antics of Pat, who, having 
been tied up, much to his disgust, during the fight, was 
employing his liberty in romping with the children. 

The victory did not pass unchronicled. Before the 
negroes retired to rest, one of them had composed a song, 
164 


LOKOLOBOLO’S FIRST FIGHT 


which will be handed down from father to son and be 
come a tradition of his tribe : 

To the house of the dog 
Came Lokolobolo 
, Inglesa was he, 

Brave Lokolobolo 
Lion and leopard, 

Friend of Imbono, 

Chief of Ilola. 

Came Elobela. 

{Chorus.) Yah! 

Bad Elobela. 

{Chorus.) Yo! 

To the house of the dog 
To fight Lokolobolo 
{Chorus.) Yah ! Yo I 

Short was the fight. 

Where is he now. 

Sad Elobela? 

Gone to the forest. 

Beating his head, 

Hiding his eyes. 

From Lokolobolo, 

Friend of Imbono, 

Lion and leopard. 

Brave Lokolobolo. 


i6s 


CHAPTER XV 


A REVOLT AT ILOLA 

Every day since the advent of Elbel, Jack had been 
conscious of the growing danger of his position. A 
negro village, in the grip of rubber collectors; adjacent 
to it, a little settlement occupied mainly by negroes, many 
of whom were fugitives from a tyranny, illegal, indeed, 
but regularized by custom ; in both settlements, . natives 
who looked to him for help against their oppressors. It 
was a situation difficult enough to daunt the pluckiest 
lad not yet eighteen. But it is lads like Jack Challoner 
that make one of the prime glories of our Anglo-Saxon 
race. Is not page after page of our national annals 
filled with the deeds of youths — drummers, buglers, en- 
signs, midshipmen — who have stepped forward in mo- 
ments of crisis and shown a noble courage, a devotion to 
duty, and a capacity beyond their years? 

Jack did not quail before the responsibility his uncle 
had all unwittingly thrown upon him, even though he 
knew that his victory over the Belgian might enormously 
increase his difficulties. Already he had wondered why 
Elbel had not put his settlement in a state of siege. The 
only conclusion he could come to was that the man was 
little more than a blusterer, without enough imagination 
to conceive the right means to adopt, or destitute of suffi- 
cient organizing power to put them in force. It would 
have been a comparatively simple matter, seeing his over- 
whelming strength in point of numbers, to prevent Jack 
from securing his needful supply of water from the 

i66 


A REVOLT AT ILOLA 


stream ; but day by day he had allowed the women with 
their calabashes to go and come unmolested. Surely, 
Jack thought, he would now, at any rate, take that most 
obvious step towards the reduction of his enemy. And 
as he sat in his hut that evening, his head racked with 
pain from long thinking, he felt sick at heart as he real- 
ized how the fate of these poor people who had sought 
his aid seemed to depend on him alone. 

Just as darkness had fallen, the chief Imbono came 
into the camp. Elbel had forbidden any one to leave 
the village, but the chief had bribed the sentry, and 
been allowed to pass. He came to report that his young 
men had just returned from their rubber hunt after a 
week’s absence in the forest, and, learning of what had 
taken place, were bent on exacting vengeance for the 
insults and injuries inflicted on their people by the 
forest guards and by Elbel himself. With his defeat the 
Belgian’s prestige had utterly gone, and to the ignorant 
negroes the opportunity seemed favorable for revenge. 
But Imbono, more far-seeing than they, had come to ask 
advice. He had great difficulty in holding his men in; 
should he let them loose, to work their will upon their 
oppressors ? 

Jack earnestly advised the chief to do his utmost to 
restrain them. 

^'Believe me, my brother,” he said, “if they do as you 
say they wish to do, it will almost certainly bring ruin 
upon you. Elobela will be only too ready to have an 
excuse for visiting upon you the rancor caused by his 
reverse. True, he failed to force my camp, but he is 
still stronger in arms and men than I. I could do 
nothing to help you, for if I once move out of the shelter 
of my stockade, I shall be at Elobela’s mercy. In the 
open it is only rifles that count.” 

“I shall do as you say, O Lokolobolo. But it is hard 
167 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


for me, for since the coming of Elobela my people do 
not obey me as they used to do. If I say, do this, Elobela 
forbids it; if I say, refrain from this, Elobela bids them 
do it. It is hard for them to serve two masters. But I 
shall tell them what my brother says ; I can do no more.” 

^‘You have another white man with you now, besides 
Elobela.” 

“It is true, and he was struck by one of the balls 
from your guns, and is now lying sick in my hut : they 
have turned me out, and Elobela has said that I am no 
more to provide food for you, my brother, either from 
Ilola or from my other villages. But one of my young 
men told me that the party you sent out have obtained 
a fair supply, and wait in the forest until you bid them 
bring it in.” 

Jack thanked the chief, who returned to his village. 

The news he brought was not of a kind to lessen 
Jack’s anxiety. What he had expected had at last hap- 
pened. He had little doubt that the commandeering of 
food would soon be followed by the stoppage of his 
water supply. Without access to water the camp was 
doomed. It was possible that if he made common cause 
with Imbono their united forces might overcome Elbel’s 
forest guards; but the attempt could be made only at 
a terrible risk, and if it failed the whole population of 
the two settlements must be annihilated. Jack saw now 
that the presence of his camp so near Ilola was a source 
of danger to it. This could not have been foreseen; 
but how much better it would have been, he thought, 
if he had chosen a different site. At another spot, remote 
from the village, with a more defensible position, and 
near a good water supply, the present weaknesses would 
not have existed, and at all events Imbono might not 
have been involved in the consequences of the quarrel 
with Elbe!, 


i68 


A REVOLT AT ILOLA 


But it was too late to think of that. Certainly no move 
could be made while Elbel was close by with a consid- 
erable force. If Elbel took advantage of his superiority 
to hold the camp closely invested, there would never 
be any possibility of moving at all. Deprived of water, 
Jack must soon choose between the alternatives — to sur- 
render, or to make a sally at the head of his men, and 
put all to the hazard of an open fight. 

Two days passed. Jack kept a close watch on Ilola 
through his field-glass ; all seemed quiet there, and of 
Elbel himself he saw nothing. What was his amazement, 
when, at daybreak, he took his stand on the platform 
overlooking Ilola, to see Elbel marching out at the head 
of the greater part of his force, and making for the 
river-bank. He waited an hour, and when they did not 
return, and the patrols had not appeared, he sent out a 
couple of men by a roundabout way to follow the move- 
ments of the force, and allowed the usual water-carriers 
to go out with their calabashes. These, returning soon 
with water, reported a strange thing. From the women 
of Ilola, whom they had met on a like errand at the 
river, they had learned that Elobela had set off with his 
men in the smoke-boat, and that Boloko had been left 
in charge of the village with about as many men as he 
had brought at first. Several hours later Jack’s scouts 
came back, and said that they had followed along the 
bank the course of Elobela’s launch ; he was going rapidly 
down the river. They could only suppose that he was 
making for the headquarters of his company some hun- 
dreds of miles away. 

“What did I say at all, at all ?” remarked Barney, when 
Jack told him the great news. “He’s no gentleman, 
that’s as' plain as the nose on his face, sorr. A man 
who will take two lickings and thin run away is not 
fit to wipe your shoes on.” 


169 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“You seem disappointed, Barney, but, frankly, Fm jolly 
glad. I could fling up my hat and cheer, if I hadn’t to 
keep up my dignity before these natives. We shall now 
have a chance to move our camp, for if he is on his way 
to headquarters he can’t get back for weeks. But first of 
all, Barney, take a dozen men and bring in that food 
that’s waiting in the forest. We shan’t be able to move 
for a day or two, at any rate; we must choose our site 
more carefully this time.” 

Thinking over the matter. Jack was not long in com- 
ing to the decision that the best place to establish his 
new camp would be near the cataract. From his recol- 
lection of the ground above it, he thought it was admi- 
rably situated from a strategical point of view. It would 
have the incidental advantage of protecting Mr. Martin- 
dale’s claim. 

The one disadvantage was its distance from the sources 
of food supply. But this caused Jack to give serious 
consideration to a matter which had once or twice dimly 
suggested itself to him. He had been more and more 
impressed with the necessity of his party being self- 
supporting, so far as the staple articles of ,food were 
concerned, if they were to make a long stay in this 
country. He remembered how Stanley, during his search 
for Emin Pasha, had been able to sow, grow and reap 
crops at Fort Bodo in a remarkably short time. Why 
should not he do the same? When he was joined by 
Mr. Martindale’s contingent, a large quantity of food 
would be needed. No doubt they would bring stores 
with them; but these could not last very long, especially 
in view of the unexpected drain upon the resources of 
the expedition caused by the arrival of the fugitives 
from Banonga and elsewhere. 

“I wonder what uncle will say when he sees them?” 
Jack remarked to Barney, when he opened up to him 
170 


A REVOLT AT ILOLA 


this question of food supply. ‘‘You remember at Banonga 
he said he wasn’t going to start a boys’ home; this is 
still more serious — a sort of convalescent home for non- 
paying patients.” 

“ ’Tis meself that isn’t wan little bit afraid uv what 
the master will say. Sure don’t I know to a letther what 
’twill be ! ‘My gracious me !’ — don’t ye hear him, sorr ? 
—‘what in the world will I want wid all these disgraceful- 
lookin’ objects? This ain’t business. I’m not a philan- 
thropy, an’ I don’t exactly see my way to run a croosade.’ 
An’ thin he’ll say, ‘Poor fellow!’ an’ ‘Poor wummanl’ 
an’ ‘Poor little chap!’ an’ he’ll dive his hands into his 
pockets an’ suddenly remimber himself that money is 
no manner uv good in this counthry, an’ he’ll say: ‘We 
must kind uv fix up some sort uv something for ’em, 
Barney.’ Didn’t I know ’im by heart the first day I 
drove ’im in London, and he went up to the horse and 
opened his jaw an’ looked in his eyes an’ says ‘He’ll do’? 
Sure, I’d niver have named me little darlint uv a Pat 
to ’m if I hadn’t known the kind uv gentleman he was 
at all.” 

Jack smiled at Barney’s way of putting it, but admitted 
the truth of the portrait. Mr. Martindale was indeed 
a capable man of affairs— an example of the best type 
of the American man of business, the embodiment of the 
qualities by which the extraordinary commercial pros- 
perity of the United States has been built up. But Jack 
knew that he was more than a man of business. His 
was a big heart, and it was one of the minor vexations 
of his life that he had to take some trouble to conceal it. 

Jack’s final conclusion was that there was not only 
every prospect of an extended stay, if this min- 
ing scheme was to be followed up, but that the number 
of persons to be provided for would be more consider- 
able than it was possible at present to calculate. Ob- 
171 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


viously, then, it behooved him to employ the time before 
Mr. Martindale’s arrival in preparing for contingencies. 

Elbel’s departure had immediate consequences in Ilola.- 
His presence had in some measure curbed the worst 
propensities of his black followers; they could only be 
brutal in obedience to orders; but the moment he was 
gone they began to show themselves once more in their 
true light. Before a day had passed, Imbono came into 
the camp to complain of the insolence and rapacity of 
Boloko and his men. Jack advised him to do nothing 
to give Boloko any excuse for violence, but he had still 
to plumb the depths of savagery and brutality in the 
men whom the Free State Government callously allowed 
the trading companies to employ in the exploitation of 
rubber. He had still to learn that where violence was 
intended, not even the shadow of an excuse was any 
longer considered necessary. 

One morning Imbono came to him in a frenzy of 
rage and indignation. His third wife had been tending 
her cooking-pot, when Boloko came up and asked what 
food she was preparing. fowl,’^ she replied civilly. 
“Give it me,’’ he demanded. “It is not yet cooked, O 
Boloko,” the poor woman answered. “You refuse me, 
Ngondisi ?” cried the ruffian. “Lift your hands and open 
your eyes wide that I may see the white of them, or I 
will shoot you.” Ngondisi in terror obeyed. “You do 
not open them wide enough,” said the wretch with a 
laugh, and he lifted the gun and fired; and the woman 
fell upon her face ; she would never open her eyes again. 

But Boloko had in this case reckoned without the 
spirit of confidence engendered in the natives by the dis- 
comfiture of Elbel. He had only ten men in the village 
when the incident occurred ; the rest were absent, levying 
toll on Imbono’s other villages a few miles distant. 
Even while Imbono, with tears of anguish, was telling 
172 


A REVOLT AT ILOLA 


Jack what had been done, the spark had been applied 
to the tinder. An extraordinary commotion was heard 
in the direction of Ilola : shots, yells, the war-cry of 
infuriate men. Rushing out with Imbono, Jack arrived 
in the village to find that retaliation had at last been 
wreaked for months of wrong. It was difficult at first to 
make out what had happened. It appeared that in 
Imbono’s absence the men of the village had suddenly 
seized their arms, and flung themselves in one desperate 
rush upon Boloko and his men. What cared they if 
several of their number fell before the tyrants’ rifles? 
Heedless of wounds, they closed about the forest guards ; 
there was a brief hand-to-hand fight; eight of Boloko’s 
men had fallen to weapons wielded with the energy of 
despair, and of the party only Boloko himself and two 
men had made their escape into the forest. 

Elate with their victory, the men of Ilola had hastened 
off to the other villages, to surprise the guards there. 
It was too late now to recall them, but Jack had arrived 
on the spot just in time to rescue one man, whom the 
villagers were on the point of massacring. The white 
sous-officer, who had been wounded in the fight before 
Jack’s camp, had been placed in Imbono’s hut. Roused 
by the sound of firing, he had dragged himself from his 
mattress, and, rifle in hand, came to the entrance of the 
hut just as Jack entered the gate with the chief. The 
villagers had forgotten him; but when they saw in their 
power a white man, one of those to whom all their 
afflictions were due, a band of them sprang towards him 
with uplifted spears. He fired : one of the men fell. The 
rest paused for an instant, and were on the point of dash- 
ing forward to make an end of their enemy, when Jack 
rushed between them and their prey, and cried to them 
in Imbono’s name to stay their hands. Reluctantly, with 
lowering countenances, they obeyed the command of their 
173 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


chief’s white brother. No mercy had been shown to 
them : why should they show mercy ? But when Imbono 
reminded them that the slaying of a white man would 
bring upon them the hordes of Bula Matadi, and that 
Elobela had already gone down the river, probably to 
bring many soldiers back with him, they sullenly drew 
off, and allowed Jack to remove the man to the safety 
of his own camp. 

The Belgian knew no English, but Jack had a fair 
working knowledge of French, which he found was 
equal to the occasion. The man explained that he was 
a non-commissioned officer of the State forces, whose 
services had been enlisted by Elbel in dealing with the 
refractory natives. He seemed quite unable to under- 
stand Jack’s point of view. To him the natives were 
so many parasites, the goods and chattels of the State, 
with no property and no rights. 

“Why, Monsieur,” he said, “we pay them for the work 
they do; we have a right to demand labor of them for 
nothing. See what we have done for their country! 
Look at the rubber stations on the river, the fine build- 
ings, the telegraphs, the cataract railway; where would 
all these blessings of civilization have been but for the 
noble self-sacrifice of King Leopold?” 

Jack gave up the attempt to argue with him that the 
country belonged primarily to its natural inhabitants, 
forbore to point out that King Leopold had expressly 
declared that he had the advancement of the natives at 
heart. He contented himself with insisting that the ac- 
tions of which Elbel and his minions had been guilty in 
Ilola were contrary to the law of the Free State itself. 
He was much struck by the Belgian’s answer. 

“Ah, Monsieur, we have no book of rules, no code of 
laws. What can we do? We are the only law. Yes, 
Monsieur, we are the only God in the Maranga.” 

174 


A REVOLT AT ILOLA 


Next day Jack went with Imbono and Lepoko to the 
waterfall, to survey the place as a possible site for a 
camp, or, to speak more strictly, a settlement. The chief 
was troubled and displeased at the prospect of the re- 
movel of his blood brother’s camp, but made no urgent 
remonstrance. On arriving at the spot. Jack at once de- 
tected signs that some one had recently been making in- 
vestigations there. He had no doubt that this was Elbel. 
The secret of the gold had probably been disclosed in an 
incautious moment to one of his escort by the men who 
had accompanied Mr. Martindale on his second visit. 
Elbel already knew enough of the American’s business 
to make him keenly interested, and alert to follow up the 
slightest clue. Knowing what he now knew of the meth- 
ods of the State officials. Jack was ready to believe that 
Elbel would strain every nerve to get Mr. Martindale 
hounded out of the country, in order to have an oppor- 
tunity of turning the discovery of gold to his own profit. 
Could his sudden departure from the village. Jack won- 
dered, have been his first move in this direction? 

Carefully examining the ground above the waterfall. 
Jack saw that a good deal would have to be done to 
make it suitable for a settlement. He heard from Im- 
bono that during several months of the year the stream 
was much broader than at present, and at the point where 
it debouched from the hill, three or four miles below, it 
and other streams overflowed their banks, forming a 
wide swamp, almost a lake, some ten miles from east 
to west and more than half a mile broad. This, during 
the rainy season, practically cut off all communication 
from the direction of the village. On the far side of^ 
the hill the bluffs were so precipitous as to make access 
very difficult. This isolated hill formed, therefore, a kind 
of huge castle, of which the swamp for half the year 
was the natural moat. 


175 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


It seemed to Jack that the most convenient site for his 
new camp was the slope of the hill immediately above 
the cataract. The incline here was very slight; the hill 
face only became steep again about a quarter of a mile 
from the fall; there it rose abruptly for fully fifty or 
sixty yards, sloping gently for the next half-mile. Jack 
saw that if he built his intrenched camp in the neighbor- 
hood of the waterfall, he would be to a slight extent 
commanded by an enemy posted on the steep ascent 
above. But by raising his defenses somewhat higher on 
that side, he hoped to overcome this disadvantage. 

With a little labor, he thought, the soil around the 
.cataract could be made suitable for planting food-stuffs. 
It was virgin soil, and, owing to the slight fall of the 
ground at this spot, and to the fact that it was partly 
protected by the contour of the hill against floods from 
above, the leaves that for ages past had fallen from the 
thick copses fringing the banks, and from the luxuriant 
undergrowth on the small plateau itself, had not been 
washed down. These deposits had greatly enriched the 
alluvium, and Imbono said that large crops of manioc, 
maize, ground-nuts and sweet potatoes could easily be 
grown, as well as plantains and bananas and sugar-cane. 

On returning to his camp by Ilola, Jack told Barney 
the results of his investigation, and announced that he 
had definitely made up his mind to settle on the new 
site. 

“Very good, sorr,” said Barney, “but what’ll become uv 
Ilola? Beggin’ your pardon, sorr, ’twas a very solemn 
affair, that ceremony uv brotherhood, an’ though sure 
it had niver a blessing from a priest — an’ like enough 
Father Mahone would think it a poor hay then sort uv 
business — still, to the poor niggers, sorr, it may be just 
as great a thing as if the priest had blessed it in the 
name uv Almighty God.” 


176 


A REVOLT AT ILOLA 


“Well, what are you driving at, Barney?’' 

“Why, this, sorr. The chief and you made a bargain 
to help wan another; an’ sure ye’ve kept it, both uv you. 
Well, if we go away, there’s no more help for either uv 
you, an’ ’tis Imbono will be most in need uv it.” 

“You mean that I’m deserting my ally, eh ?” 

“Bedad, sorr, isn’t it me that knows ye’d niver do it? 
But I just speak for the look uv the thing, sorr. Sure 
niver a man knows betther than Barney O’Dowd that 
things are not always what they seem.” 

“To tell you the truth, Barney, I’ve been thinking it 
over on the way back. I could see that Imbono doesn’t 
like the idea of our moving, though he was too polite to 
mention it — ” 

“ ’Tis a rale Irish gentlemen he is, sorr,” interrupted 
Barney. 

“There’s no doubt that Elbel, or Boloko, or both, will 
come back sooner or later. Leaving me out of the ques- 
tion, the slaughter of Boloko’s party won’t go unpun- 
ished. To overlook that would ruin the authority of 
the forest guards for hundreds of miles round. Well, 
what does it mean when they return? They’d make a 
terrible example of Ilola. Imbono and his people would 
be wiped out. And you’re quite right in believing that 
I couldn’t stand by and see that done. But you see what 
it involves. We must plan our camp so as to be able to 
take in the whole of Imbono’s people from the three vil- 
lages, I suppose, about four hundred in all, children in- 
cluded. That’s a large order, Barney.” 

“True it is, sorr, but you wouldn’t keep out the childer, 
poor little souls, an’ mighty proud uv Pat they are, too. 
Besides, sorr, they’ll all help, ivery soul, to build the 
camp; many hands make light work; an’ ye couldn’t 
expect ’em to set up a lot uv huts for us excipt they 
177 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


saw a chance uv bein’ invited now and again, at least as 
payin’ guests, sorr.” 

“Well, Barney, I’d made up my mind to it all, but I 
thought I’d like to sound you first. So all we’ve got to 
do now is to relieve Imbono’s suspense and set to work. 
We’ll start with clearing the soil for crops. It will take 
some time to plan the new camp, and we’ve always this 
one to retreat to. Take Lepoko over to Ilola and make 
the announcement yourself, Barney.” 

“I will, sorr, wid the greatest pleasure in life. ’Deed, 
’twas meself that took the news to Biddy O’Flaherty whin 
her pig had won the prize at Ballymahone Show, and 
was just coming away wid a penny in me pocket when I 
met Mike Henchie. ‘An’ what would ye be afther, Mike ?’ 
says I. ‘Carry in’ the news to "Biddy O’ Flaherty, to be 
sure,’ says he. ‘Arrah, thin, ’tis too late ye are,’ says I. 
‘Isn’t it meself that’s just got a penny for that same 
news?’ ‘Bedad,’ says he, ‘what will have come to Biddy 
at all?’ ‘What is it ye’d be maning?’ says 1. ‘Sure she 
didn’t give me a penny,’ says Mike, ‘last year whin I 
brought her the news. She gave me a screech and went 
black in the face, an’ sure ’twas for the same fun I’m 
here this blessed minute.’ ‘Husht !’ says I. ‘Biddy didn’t 
win the prize last year at all. ’Twas Patsy McManus.’ 
‘An’ who is it this time but that same Patsy?’ says Mike. 
‘But I heard the judge wid my very own ears give it to 
Biddy !’ says I. ‘ ’Deed so,’ says he ; ‘but some one re- 
mimbered him that Patsy had won it two years on end. 
“Me old friend Patsy!” says the judge; “sure I couldn’t 
break her heart by spoilin’ the third time. I’ll give it to 
Patsy,” says he.’ An’ Patsy hadn’t shown a pig at all 
that year, sorr !” 


178 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE HOUSE ON THE WATER 

With characteristic energy, Jack next day set about 
the work in earnest. He posted sentinels several miles 
down the river and on the only forest paths by which a 
force was likely to approach, to give him timely notice 
if the enemy appeared. Then, with as many men as he 
could muster, and a great number of women, he hastened 
to the waterfall, and began the work of clearing the 
ground. He had decided to start from the site of the 
proposed settlement and work outwards, so that the crops 
would be as much as possible under the protection of the 
camp : it would never do to raise a harvest for the enemy 
to reap. 

He placed Mboyo, Samba’s father, in command of all 
his Own people who had turned up, and of such people 
from other tribes as now came dropping in daily, the 
news of the white men who feared not Bula Matadi 
having by this time spread abroad in the land. Every 
new contingent of fugitives brought a fresh tale of out- 
rage, causing Jack to persevere under the discourage- 
ments with which he met, and to vow that he would do 
all in his power to protect the poor people who looked 
to him for succor. What the ultimate result i)f his ac- 
tion would be he did not stay to consider. It was enough 
for him that a work of urgent need lay ready to his 
hand. 

He did not blink the fact that he and his followers 
were now in reality in revolt against the constituted au- 
thorities of the Free State. Elbel, it was true, was only 
179 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


a servant of a concessionnaire company vested with cer- 
tain trading and taxing privileges; but government as 
understood in the Free State was conducted by the dele- 
gation of powers from the central authority to private 
or corporate trading concerns. How far the powers of 
such a man as Elbel really extended in point of law, Jack 
did not know. But he had been driven into his present 
position by a series of events, in the face of which he 
could not find that any other course of action than the 
one he had adopted was open to him. And while he rec- 
ognized fully the essential weakness of his position, how- 
ever well fortified he might regard himself on grounds 
of humanity, he faced boldly what seemed the likeliest 
immediate consequence of his actions — the return of 
Elbel in force. 

Meanwhile, he was beginning to be a little concerned 
at not hearing from Mr. Martindale. It was many 
weeks since his last note had arrived. Jack was not yet 
seriously anxious about his uncle’s non-appearance in 
person, for he could easily conceive that delays might 
occur in the prosecution of his business in strange places 
and among strange people; and when he reflected he 
came to the conclusion that Mr. Martindale might nat- 
urally hesitate to send many messengers. They were 
very expensive, having to come so many hundreds of 
miles, and, moreover, there was always a chance that a 
letter might miscarry. The Congo was not too safe a 
highway; the Free State methods had not been such as 
to instil a respect for 'daw” among the victims of its 
rule. Jack knew full well that if a messenger from his 
uncle fell into Elbel’s hands he would not be allowed to 
proceed. It was possible that Mr. Martindale’s pur- 
chase of rifles, and their destination, had been discovered ; 
and the idea that he might be involved in some trou- 
ble with the courts made Jack feel uneasy at times. 

i8o 


THE HOUSE ON THE WATER 

But he was so extremely busy that he had little leisure 
for speculation of any kind. The work of clearing the 
ground proceeded with wonderful rapidity. 

“They talk about the negro being lazy/’ he remarked 
one day to Barney, “he doesn’t look like it now.” 

“Ah, sorr, they say the same about my countrymen. 
Perhaps the truth is the same in Ireland as ’tis here. 
For why are the niggers here not lazy, sorr? Just be- 
cause you’ve explained to them what the work’s for, and 
they know they’ll get the good uv it. There may be 
scuts of spalpeens that won’t work at any time for any- 
thing or anybody at all. ’Tis they I’d use that chicotte 
on, sorr ; but I don’t see any here, to be sure.” 

When enough ground had been cleared and sowed to 
furnish a considerable crop. Jack turned the whole of 
his available force on to the work of building the in- 
trenched camp. Imbono had welcomed with gratitude 
and enthusiasm the suggestion that the new settlement 
should be made large enough to contain the whole popu- 
lation of his villages in case of need ; and his men having 
discontinued their unprofitable search for rubber when 
the forest guards disappeared, he could employ them 
almost all in the work, for Jack did not recognize the 
prescriptive right of the men to leave all the field work, 
when the clearing had been done, to the women, as is the 
invariable negro custom. Whether in the fields or on 
the new defenses, he insisted on all taking a share. 

The greatest difficulty he encountered in the construc- 
tion of his new camp was the want of materials. The 
country in the immediate vicinity of the waterfall was 
only sparsely wooded, and too much time and labor 
would be consumed in hauling logs from the forest be- 
low. But he found a large copse bordering the stream, 
higher up, and here he felled the trees, floating the logs 
down to the side of his settlement, not without diffi- 

i8i 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


culty, owing to the narrow, tortuous bed. These, how- 
ever, proved quite insufficient for the construction of a 
thick and impenetrable stockade round the whole circuit 
of the chosen site. Jack, therefore, determined to use 
the boulders that lay in the course of the stream, thus 
unawares making his camp a cross between an Afghan 
stone sangar and a log fort, such as were built by the 
pioneers and fur traders of the American West. The 
labor of transporting the heavy boulders to the site of 
the settlement was very great, but the heart of the la- 
borers, being, as Barney had said, in their work, they 
toiled ungrudgingly, and, with the ingenuity that the 
negro often unexpectedly displays, they proved very fer- 
tile in simple labor-saving devices. 

The fort was built on the left bank of the stream, just 
above the cataract, so that the precipitous cliff formed an 
effective defense to its southern side. Before falling 
over the cataract, the stream ran through a gully some 
twelve feet deep. The western side of the fort rested 
on the gully, and was thus with difficulty accessible in 
this quarter. Only on the north and east was it neces- 
sary to provide strong defensive works. These faces 
were each about sixty yards long. At the western ex- 
tremity of the northern face, where it rested on the 
stream. Jack placed a solid blockhouse of logs. He con- 
structed a similar blockhouse at the eastern extremity of 
this face, and a third at the southeast corner, where the 
stone wall abutted on the precipice. All three block- 
houses were constructed as bastions so as to enfilade the 
northern and eastern faces. 

When the outer defenses were thus completed, the 
negroes were set to work to build the necessary habita- 
tions within. Hundreds of tall stems, thousands of 
climbers, vines and creepers, piles of palm and phrynia 
leaves were collected, and in an amazingly short time 
182 


THE HOUSE ON THE WATER 


the space so lately bare was covered with neat huts, 
built in native fashion, for the negroes, with three more 
substantial dwellings, somewhat apart from the rest, for 
Mr. Martindale, Jack and Barney. A wide, open space 
was left in the middle. At one point a great heap of 
boulders was collected for repairing the wall, if neces- 
sary; and Jack placed his ammunition securely in an 
underground magazine. 

In two months from the departure of Elbel, Jack was 
able to transfer his stores to the new settlement. The 
crops in the cultivated area were already far advanced. 
Jack was amazed to see how quickly in this teeming soil 
the bare brown face of the earth became covered with 
the tender shoots of green, and how rapid was the prog- 
ress to full maturity. Clearly the new village, to which 
the natives had given the name Ilombekabasi, “the house 
on the water,” would be in no straits for its food supply. 

It was Barney who suggested a doubt about the water. 
Jack found him, as a rule, a good commentator, but a 
poor originator; he could very prettily embroider an 
idea, but very rarely had an idea of his own. But on 
this occasion he had a flash of insight. 

“By the powers, sorr,” he said one morning, as Jack 
and he were walking along the stream, “I do remimber 
just this very minute two lines uv poethry out uv a 
poethry book I was made to learn whin I was a bhoy, an’ 
they talked uv sendin’ me in for ’zamination by the In- 
termaydiate Board. It never came to anything, to be 
sure, because by the time I was old enough to sit for 
the ’zamination I was too old, sorr.” 

“Well, what are the lines?” 

“Water, water iver5rwhere, 

An’ not a dhrop to drink.’ 

“ Twas about some poor sailor man that shot a bird at 
183 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


sea, an’ ’twas a holy bird, an’ whin ’twas dead the wind 
did not blow, an’ the sailors dropped down dead, an’ 
ghosts came aboard, an’ the sky was like a hot copper, 
an’ this poor divil uv a fellow was alone, all, all alone, as 
the book said, wid the dead bird slung round his neck, 
an’ his lips parched, an’ water all about, but as salt as a 
herring, so that he couldn’t drink it; bedad, sorr, I re- 
mimber how mighty bad I felt meself whin my ould 
tacher — rest his sowl ! — read out those lines in a sort 
uv whisper, an’ me lips went as dhry as an old boot, 
sorr.” 

The idea, you perceive, was by this time pretty well 
smothered under its embroidery. 

“You mean that the enemy might try to divert the 
stream if they attacked our camp?” 

“ ’Tis the very marrow uv it, sorr, an’ mighty aisy it 
would be. Sure there are plenty uv boulders left, an’ 
they could make a dam that would turn this stream at 
the narrow part above, an’ niver a blessed dhrop uv 
drink should we get.” 

“You’re right, Barney. We must be prepared for any- 
thing. Let us go and look round.” 

Strolling up stream, they came, within a short dis- 
tance of the spot where inspiration had flashed upon 
Barney, to a small spring bubbling up near the river- 
bank. 

“Here’s water, Barney,” said Jack. “It rather sug- 
gests that we’d find water inside the camp if we sank a 
well.” 

“True, sorr; but I’m thinking that would need a ter- 
rible deal uv diggin’.” 

“Still, it may have to be done. We can’t use this 
spring; it’s a hundred yards, at least, away from the 
stockade — too far to come, under fire from Albini rifles.” 

184 


THE HOUSE ON THE WATER 


“And we couldn’t make it run into the camp, sorr, 
more’s the pity.” 

“Stop a bit. I don’t know that we couldn’t. We 
might make a conduit.” 

“What might that be, sorr?” 

“A pipe. It would have to be underground.” 

“And if we got a pipe, an’ could lay it, the marks uv 
the diggin’ would bethray us. Don’t the streets uv Lon- 
don prove it whin the County Council has been taking 
up the drains.” 

“Unless we could cover them in some way. That 
might be managed. A greater difficulty is the natives. 
They’ve worked very well, but we don’t know how far 
they can be trusted ; and if they knew of this water-pipe 
we propose, they might blab the secret and undo all our 
work.” 

“And where’s the pipe, sorr? There are no gas-pipes 
or drain-pipes in this haythen country.” 

“No ; but there are plenty of bamboos. We could make 
an excellent pipe of them. The digging is the difficulty. 
We can’t get the natives to do it without giving our 
plan away; and we can’t do it ourselves for the same 
reason. I shall have to think this out, Barney.” 

“Sleep on it, sorr. Begorra, I remimber two more 
lines from that same poethry book : 

“ ‘Sleep, sleep, it is a blessed thing 
Beloved from pole to pole.’ 

an’ no wonder at all, for many a time I’ve gone to me 
bed bothered about wan thing or another, and bedad, 
the morn’s morn ’twas all as clear as the blessed day- 
light, sorr.” 

“Well, I’ll sleep on it, Barney, and let you know to- 
morrow what the result is.” 

It was close thought, however, before he fell asleep 

185 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


that gave Jack the solution of the problem. All the men 
knew that the object of the white man’s presence here 
was to search for gold; they knew also that to obtain 
the gold the soil had to be excavated. Why not turn 
their knowledge to good account? Instead of laying his 
conduit in a direct line from the spring to the nearest 
point of the stockade, he would lay it along, or rather 
in the side of the gully; it would thus be more likely 
to escape observation, and the disturbed ground could 
be planted with quick-growing creepers, or covered up 
with boulders. As a blind to the natives, he would have 
a number of excavations made at the edge of the gully, 
both above and below the waterfall, and one of those 
could be used for the bamboo pipe without anybody’s 
being the wiser, save the few who must necessarily be 
in the secret. 

Next morning, accordingly. Jack, under pretense of 
continuing the search for gold, set the men to make a 
series of shallow excavations. Most of these were cut 
below the cataract, and, using the prospector’s pan. Jack 
obtained what he hoped his uncle would consider good 
results from the soil. He carefully noted the places along 
the exposed bed of the stream in which the best returns 
were found. But the excavations were abandoned one 
by one, and attention was not unduly directed to any of 
them. 

One of the excavations above the waterfall was the 
channel for the conduit. Jack carried it from within a 
few yards of the spring to a spot near the northwest 
blockhouse, overlooking the gully. At one time it seemed 
that his plan would be wrecked, literally upon a rock, for 
a huge mass of stone, of almost granite hardness, was 
met with a little less than half-way from the spring. 
But Jack was relieved to find soft earth beneath it, and 
the obstacle was turned, by sinking the conduit at 

i86 


THE HOUSE ON THE WATER 


this place some feet below the usual level. At a short 
distance from the blockhouse, within the stockade, Jack 
set the men to excavate a large tank, with a surface out- 
let over the cataract; and from the bottom of the tank 
he drove a tunnel just large enough to accommodate a 
bamboo pipe to the nearest point of the gully. 

The tank was an object of great curiosity to the na- 
tives, both those who had dug it and those who looked 
on; the children amused themselves by jumping in and 
out until the bottom became so deep as to make that 
spot dangerous. Their elders congregated at the edge, 
chattering among themselves, some suggesting that it 
was intended as a storehouse for grain ; others, as a grave 
in which to bury Elobela and his men when they were 
killed in the fight that all expected. 

Meanwhile Jack had taken two of the natives into 
his confidence. They were Mboyo and Samba. The 
former was silent by nature and habit. Samba would 
have torn out his tongue rather than divulge any secret 
of his master’s. Jack intrusted to them the construc- 
tion of the conduit. He knew enough of their language 
by this time to be able to explain what he wanted with- 
out Lepoko’s assistance, and they quickly seized his idea. 
Working by themselves in a bamboo plantation at Ilola, 
they selected stalks of slightly different thickness which 
would fit into one another; and Jack found that by care- 
fully packing the joints with earth from the peaty 
swamp, he could make a pipe of the required length prac- 
tically free from leakage. 

It remained to lay the conduit in position. This task 
he reserved for himself and Barney, with the assistance 
of Mboyo and Samba. To avoid observation by the 
people, it was necessary to do the work at night. Ac- 
cordingly, one day Jack gave orders that no one was 
to leave the camp without permission, after the evening 
187 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


meal was eaten. Immediately after sunset the four 
quickly issued from the gate in the northern face of 
the stockade, one at a time, so as not to attract attention. 
Mboyo and Samba brought the sections of the pipe 
from the place where they had concealed them, and, 
under Jack’s direction, they laid them along the gully, 
covering up each length of bamboo as it was laid. The 
trench having been already prepared, the actual labor 
involved was not great, the only difficulty being to 
remove, as far as possible, the traces of their operations. 
But it took time, and was impeded by the darkness, so 
that on the first night, after several hours of work, only 
the pipe had been laid, no connection having yet been 
made with the tank or the spring. 

The work was continued under similar conditions on 
the following night. A connection having been made 
with the tank, it only remained to tap the spring. A 
hole some three feet deep was dug where the water bub- 
bled up, and a fairly water-tight chamber was formed 
by lining it with stone chipped from the boulders. Into 
this one end of the conduit was carried. Then the hole 
was filled in and covered with two heavy pieces of 
rock, placed in as natural and unstudied a position as 
possible. While this was being done by Mboyo and 
Samba, Jack and Barney dibbled the roots of sweet- 
potato creepers into the soil along the whole length of 
the conduit, knowing that they would grow so readily 
that in a few weeks every trace of their work would be 
hidden by the foliage. And the plant would serve a 
double purpose. 

The spring was a small one ; nevertheless, by the time 
the night’s task was completed, and the party returned 
to the camp, there were already two or three inches of 
water in the tank, and it was steadily rising. Barney 
was even more' delighted than Jack. 

i88 


THE HOUSE ON THE WATER 


’Tis wonderful what a power uv good poethry can do 
in the world, sorr,’^ he said. “An’ sure the commission- 
aires uv education in the ould counthry would be proud 
men the day did they know that Barney O’Dowd, 
though he didn’t pass his ’zamination, has made a mighty 
fine use uv the little poethry book.” 

Great was the surprise of the natives when they 
awoke next morning to see the mysterious tank full of 
water, and a tiny overflow trickling from it over the 
cataract. They discussed it for the whole of the day, 
inventing every explanation but the right one. The 
original spring had been so near the river and so incon- 
spicuous that its disappearance was not noticed. 

Jack felt a glow of satisfaction as he looked round 
on his work. Here was an orderly settlement, on an 
excellent natural site, defended by a stockade and wall, 
impregnable, save to artillery, ’^ith fresh, clean huts, 
well-cultivated fields, and an inexhaustible water supply. 
It had involved much thought and care and toil; how 
amply they had been rewarded! 

His men were now all transferred from their old set- 
tlement to the new one. Imbono’s people still remained 
in their villages, not without reluctance. They knew 
that the gate of Ilombekabasi would always be open 
to them if danger threatened; but they felt the attrac- 
tions of the place, and wished to migrate at once. They 
were particularly jealous of the refugees. These 
people were strangers; why should they have better 
habitations and stronger defenses than they themselves? 
Why were they permitted to remain in Imbono’s coun- 
try at all? Jack had much ado to keep the peace between 
the two parties. Quarrels were frequent, and that they 
did not develop into open strife was a tribute to Jack’s 
diplomacy, and to the strange influence which Samba 
liad acquired. The winning qualities which had 
189 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


captivated Mr. Martindale seemed to have a magical 
effect upon the people. The boy had always been a 
special pet among his own folk; his merry nature won 
the affection of Imbono’s subjects also. Jack kept an 
observant eye upon him, and more than once saw him 
quietly approach a group where bickering and recrimi- 
nation were going on, and by some grace of address, or 
some droll antic, played with his inseparable companion 
Pat, turn frowns to smiles and suspicion to good fellow- 
ship. 

Among the inhabitants of Ilombekabasi was the Bel- 
gian sergeant rescued from the villagers in Ilola. He 
gave his parole not to attempt escape, and indeed endured 
captivity patiently, for he knew not how far away his 
friends might be, and to wander alone in this forest coun- 
try meant death. Jack sometimes talked with him, taking 
the opportunity of airing his French, and finding some 
little interest in sounding the man’s views. At first the 
Belgian would not admit that the natives had any rights, 
or that there was anything particularly obnoxious in the 
system of administration. But he changed his mind one 
day, when Jack put to him a personal question. 

“How would you, a Belgian, like it if some strange 
sovereign — the German emperor, say — came down upon 
you and compelled you to go into your woods and col- 
lect beech-nuts for him, paying you at the rate of a sou 
a day, or not at all, and thrashing, or maiming, or kill- 
ing you if you didn’t collect enough ?” 

The question was unanswerable, and from that time 
the Belgian became a meditative man. 

The refugees were gradually increasing in number. By 
the time the camp was finished, Mboyo’s command had 
grown to sixty men, with nearly as many women and 
twice as many children. All brought stories of the bar- 
barous deeds of the rubber collectors ; many bore, in 
190 


THE HOUSE ON THE WATER 


maimed limbs or scarred backs, the personal evidences of 
the oppressors’ cruelty. Jack was moved almost to tears 
one day. A fine-looking negro came into the camp carry- 
ing something wrapped in palm leaves, and asked to be 
taken to Lokolobolo. When brought before Jack he re- 
moved the wrappings, and, unutterable woe depicted on 
his face, displayed a tiny black hand and foot. His vil- 
lage had been raided, he said, and with his wife and 
children and a few others he had fled to the forest, where 
they lived on roots and leaves and nuts. The forest 
guards tracked them out. One day, when he was absent 
fishing, a brutal sentry came upon his wife as she was 
collecting leaves for the evening meal. He learned from 
one of his friends what happened. Before the woman 
could escape, the sentry shot her, and as she was only 
wounded, his “boys” chopped her with their knives till 
she died. Others of his hangers-on took the children; 
and when the father returned to the place where he had 
left them, he found the dead body of his wife, and one 
hand and foot, all that remained of his little ones from 
the cannibal feast. 

It was incidents like these that stiffened Jack’s back. 
He had crossed his Rubicon: the gate of Ilombekabasi 
stood open to all who chose to come. And they came 
steadily. For a time many of them were too weak to be 
useful members of the little society. But as, with good 
food and freedom from care, their strength increased, 
they began to be self-supporting. Mboyo employed them 
in attending to the crops and bringing new ground under 
cultivation. Several were artificers and were useful in 
doing smith’s or carpenter’s work. 

In addition to keeping the villagers employed. Jack set 
apart a portion of every day for military exercises. Every 
able-bodied man was armed; those for whom there were 
no rifles carried the native spears. When Boloko fled 
191 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


from Ilola he left a number of Albini rifles and a stock 
of ammunition behind. These Jack appropriated, so that 
his corps of riflemen now numbered sixty. He used his 
cartridges very sparingly, for his stock was not large, and 
he saw no possibility of replenishing it. 

Now and again he arranged for a sham fight. One 
party of men was told olf to storm the stockade, an equal 
party to defend it. No firearms were used on these oc- 
casions; the weapons employed were wooden poles with 
wadded ends. Such fights afforded excellent practice 
against a real attack, and not a little amusement and 
enjoyment to the natives, who entered into the spirit of 
them enthusiastically, and took the hard knocks and 
bruises with as much cheerfulness as school-boys on a 
foot-ball field. These little operations were useful to Jack 
also. By their means he discovered the weak spots in his 
defenses, and was able to strengthen them accordingly. 

But he was now becoming seriously alarmed at Mr. 
Martindale’s continued absence. Eight weeks had passed 
since his last letter came to hand, nearly five months 
since his departure. What could have happened? Jack 
could not think that his uncle had willingly left him so 
long to bear his heavy responsibility, and now that he 
had more leisure he could not prevent himself from imag- 
ining all kinds of mishaps and disasters. At last, when 
he was on the point of sending a special messenger down 
the river to make inquiries, a negro arrived at the set- 
tlement with a letter. He had come within a hundred 
and fifty miles of Ilombekabasi as a paddler on a white 
man’s canoe; the remainder of the distance he had cov- 
ered on foot. Jack opened the letter eagerly. It read : 

My Dear Jack: 

Sorry to leave you so long. Have been on my back with an 
attack of malaria; three weeks unconscious, they told me. No 
need to be anxious ; I’m on the mend ; soon be as fit as a fiddle. 

192 


THE HOUSE ON THE WATER 


Pretty weak, of course; malaria isn’t exactly slathers of fun. 
It will be a fortnight or three weeks before I can start; then 
must travel slowly. Expect me somewhat over a month after 
you get this. I’ve been in a stew about you. Hope you’ve had 
no trouble. Can you stomach native food? Didn’t forget your 
birthday. Got a present for you — quite a daisy. 

Your affectionate uncle, 

John Martindale. 

P. S. — Got some hydraulic plant at Boma: a bargain. 


193 


CHAPTER XVII 


A BUFFALO HUNT 

“Dear old uncle!” said Jack as he handed the letter 
to Barney. “ Ton my soul, I’d forgotten my own birth- 
day, and I haven’t the ghost of a notion what the day 
of the month is ; have you, Barney ?” 

“Divil a bit, sorr.” 

“Though, of course, I could reckon it out by counting 
up the Sundays. D’you know, Barney, I almost wish 
I’d made these negroes knock off work one day a week?” 

“Sure it wouldn’t have answered at all at all, sorr. 
A day’s idleness would mean a day’s quarreling. Of 
course, ’tis a pity they’re ignorant haythens, an’ I wish 
we could have Father Mahone out for a month or two 
to tache the poor cratures, but until they are tached in 
the proper way, betther let ’em alone, sorr.” 

“Perhaps you’re right, Barney. Doesn’t it seem to you 
odd that uncle says nothing about the rubber question? 
His first letter, you remember, was full of it.” 

“Master’s a wise man, sorr. What he does not say 
says more than what he does. He wouldn’t be sure, you 
see, that his letter would iver reach you. And bedad, if 
he’d had good things to say uv the State officers, wouldn’t 
he have said it? He’s found ’em out, sorr, ’tis my be- 
lief.” 

“I shall be jolly glad to see him, dear old boy.” 

“And so shall I, sorr, an’ to see some things fit for a 
Christian to ate. Master’s stomach won’t take niggers’ 
food, an’ mine wouldn’t, if I could help it.” 

194 


A BUFFALO HUNT 


“But you’re getting fat, man!’" 

“Sure that’s the terrible pity of it. Wi’ dacent food I 
kept as lean as a rake, and Fd niver have believed that 
the only way to get fat was to ate pig’s food ; for that’s 
what it is, sorr, this manioc and other stuff. I’ll now be 
wanting to get thin again, sorr.” 

The white men’s stores had long since given out. For 
weeks they had had no sugar, no coffee, tea or cocoa. 
Jack, as well as Barney, had to share the natives’ food. 
Jack did not mind the change, and he believed that Bar- 
ney’s objection was more than half feigned, for the Irish- 
man ate with unfailing appetite. The native diet was 
indeed nutritious and not unappetizing. It included fish 
from the streams, which they ate both fresh and smoked ; 
bananas, pineapples, plantains, Indian corn, manioc, 
ground-nuts and sweet potatoes. Manioc was their most 
important food, and Jack after a time began to like it, 
as made into kwanga. The root of the plant is pounded 
to a pulp, soaked for twenty-four hours in running water, 
and when it ferments, is worked up into a stiff dough. 
Cut into slices and fried in ground-nut oil, it is very pal- 
atable. Jack also found the ground-nuts delicious when 
roasted. A few goats kept in the settlement provided 
milk for Jack and Barney, and they had a regular supply 
of eggs from their fowls, so that Jack, at least, considered 
himself very well off. 

The crops around the settlement ripened and were 
gathered: fine fields of Indian corn, amazing quantities 
of manioc and ground-nuts, that ripen beneath the soil. 
Yet Jack began to wonder whether his plantations would 
meet the needs of the population. It was still growing. 
The renown of Lokolobolo and Ilombekabasi had evi- 
dently spread far and wide, for every week more refugees 
came in from villages far apart. Besides the men of 
Jack’s original party, there were now nearly two hundred 

195 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


people in the settlement, and Jack always had to remem- 
ber that these might any day be increased by the four 
hundred from Imbono’s villages, if Elbel returned to 
avenge Boloko’s expulsion, as he certainly would do. 
Further, Mr. Martindale would no doubt bring back with 
him a certain number of trained workmen — carpenters, 
engine men, and so forth; all these must be provided 
with house-room and food. Jack was glad that he had 
planned the settlement on generous lines, though as he 
looked around he asked himself somewhat anxiously 
whether it would suffice to accommodate all. And what 
would his uncle say to it? Would he indorse what Jack 
had done, and take upon himself the protection of these 
outcasts against their own lawfully-constituted, however 
imlawfully-administered, government? Only time could 
decide that, and Jack awaited with growing impatience 
his uncle’s return. 

One morning a messenger came in from Ilola to say 
that news had reached Imbono of a herd of buffaloes 
which were feeding about five miles off in the open coun- 
try to the west. Hitherto Jack had not had leisure to 
indulge his taste for sport; but the knowledge that big 
game was now so near at hand prompted him to try 
his luck. Leaving Barney in charge of the settlement, 
he set off the same morning with Imbono and Mboyo, 
who had both become very fair marksmen, the former 
with an Albini rifle that had been Boloko’s, the latter 
with a Mauser presented to him by Jack. 

Samba and Lepoko were in attendance, carrying lunch 
for the party. Though Jack had picked up a good deal 
of the language, he found it in some respects so extra- 
ordinarily intricate that he was always glad of Lepoko 
as a stand-by. 

By the time they reached the spot where the herd had 
first been sighted, it had moved some distance away, but 
196 


A BUFFALO HUNT 


it was easily tracked, and by dint of careful stalking up 
the wind the party got within three hundred yards with- 
out being discovered by the keen-scented beasts. Then, 
however, the country became so open that to approach 
nearer unseen was impossible, and Jack decided to take a 
shot at them without going farther. 

He had brought the heavy sporting rifle which had 
accounted for Imbono’s enemy, the hippopotamus, in the 
river. Selecting the largest of the herd — they were the 
red buffaloes of the district, a good deal smaller than 
the kind he had seen in America — he fired and brought 
down the game. The others broke away towards a 
clump of euphorbias, and Jack got another shot as they 
disappeared, but neither this nor the small-bore bullets 
of the chiefs' rifles appeared to take effect, for in an 
instant, as it seemed, the whole remaining herd vanished 
from sight. 

Jack slipped two more cartridges into his empty cham- 
ber, and, leaving the bush from behind which he had 
fired, ran towards his kill. It was his first buffalo, and 
only those who have known the delight of bagging their 
first big game could appreciate his elation and excite- 
ment. He outstripped the rest of his party. The two 
chiefs, having failed to bring down the animals at which 
they had aimed, seemed to have lost all interest in the 
hunt. Samba left them discussing with Lepoko the 
relative merits of their rifles and hurried on after his 
adored master. 

Jack bent over the prostrate body. Despite the tre- 
mor of excitement he had felt as he cocked his rifle, he 
found that his aim had been true; the buffalo had been 
shot through the brain. At that moment — so strange 
are mental associations — he wished his school chum, Tom 
Ingestre, could have been there. Tom was the keenest 
sportsman in the school; how he would envy Jack when 
197 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


he saw the great horns and skull hanging as a trophy 
above the mantelpiece when he paid that promised visit 
to New York! 

But while recollections of “Tiger Tom/’ as the school 
had nicknamed him, were running through his mind, 
Jack was suddenly startled by a bellow behind him and 
a couple of shots. Springing erect, he faced round to- 
wards the sound, to see Samba’s dark body darting be- 
tween himself and a second buffalo, plunging towards 
him from the direction of the bushes. As happened 
once to Stanley traveling between Vivi and Isangila, the 
suddenness of the onset for the moment paralyzed his 
will; he was too young a sportsman to be ready for 
every emergency. But the most seasoned hunter would 
not have dared to fire, for Samba’s body at that instant 
almost hid the buffalo from view, coming as it did with 
lowered head. 

The animal was only ten yards away when Samba 
crossed its track; but the boy’s quick action broke its 
charge, and it stopped short, as though half inclined to 
turn in pursuit of Samba, who had now passed to its left. 
Then it again caught sight of Jack and the dead buffalo, 
and with another wild bellow dashed forward. In these 
few instants, however. Jack had recovered his self-pos- 
session, and raised his rifle to his shoulder. As the beast 
plunged forward it was met by a bullet which stretched 
it inert within a few feet of Jack’s earlier victim. 

^‘Bonolu mongo exclaimed Jack, clapping Samba 
on the shoulder. “But for your plucky dash I should 
have been knocked over and probably killed. You saw 
him coming, eh?” 

“A jenaki” ^ replied Samba, with his beaming smile. 


1 Brave boy. 

2 1 saw. 


198 


A BUFFALO HUNT 


Meanwhile the two chiefs had run up with Lepoko 
and were examining the second buffalo, with an air of 
haste and excitement. They began to talk at one another 
so loud and fiercely, and to gesticulate so violently, that 
Jack, though he could not make out a word of what 
they were saying, saw that a pretty quarrel was work- 
ing up. 

“Now, Lepoko,” he said, putting himself between the 
chiefs and sitting on the buffalo’s head, “what is all this 
about ?” 

“Me tell massa,” said Lepoko. “Imbono he say he kill 
n'gombu; Mboyo say no, he kill n'gombu. Lepoko say 
massa kill n'gombu; no can tell; me fink one two three 
hab kill n'gombu all same.” 

“Well, my own opinion is pretty well fixed, but we’ll 
see. Why, there are three bullet marks in his hide 
besides mine. That’s mine, you see, that large hole in 
the middle of the forehead. One of yen must have hit 
him twice. And I’m hanged if the bullets didn’t go 
clean through him. No wonder he was in a rage. Tell 
them what I say, Lepoko.” 

On hearing what Jack had said, the chiefs began to 
jabber at each other again. 

^'Kwa teT said Jack. “What do they say now, Le- 
poko ?” 

“Imbono say he make two holes; Mboyo say no, he 
make two holes. Lepoko fink bofe make two holes — 
how can do uvver way?” 

“Two and one make three, my man, not four. I’ll 
soon tell you who made the two.” 

By comparing the wounds he found that two of them 
had been made by Mauser bullets and one by an Albini. 

“There’s no doubt about it, Mboyo hit him twice. But 
to put an end to your squabble, let me tell you that you 
both might have fired at him all day and never killed him 
199 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


if you hit him in those parts. Neither of you did him any 
damage, though you might have done for me, irritating 
him as you did. We’ll settle the matter by saying he is 
Samba’s buffalo. It was Samba who got in his way 
and gave me time to take good aim at him. And Samba 
might have been killed himself. I am grateful to your 
son, Mboyo, and proud of him, and when I get back I 
shall give him one of the rifles I have left as a reward.” 

This end to the controversy satisfied both the chiefs. 
Neither grudged Samba anything. As for the boy, he 
was more than delighted. He had never dreamed of hand- 
ling a rifle until he was at least fifteen, when the negro 
boy is as old as the white boy of twenty; and to have 
one his very own made him enormously proud. 

“He say larn shoot one time, massa,” said Lepoko. 
“Lepoko plenty mislable. What for? ’Cos he shoot 
plenty well; but massa no tell him to bring gun. No; 
Lepoko must lib for talk, talk, talk all time ; me no happy 
all same.” 

“You shall have your chance next time. Now, Samba, 
run off to the camp and bring some men to cut up the 
buffaloes. We shall wait hereabouts until you come 
back.” 

When Samba had gone it occurred to Jack that he 
would eat his lunch at the summit of a small hill that 
rose steeply about half a mile from the spot where the 
buffaloes had been killed. The chiefs, disinclined like 
all Africans for exertion that was avoidable and seemed 
to have no object, pointed out that their present situation 
was quite suited for having the meal, and they were quite 
hungry enough without climbing for an appetite. But 
Jack persisted. He wished to ascertain whether there 
was a clear view from the hill, and though he might 
have ascended it alone, he feared lest in his absence the 
chiefs would again fall out over the buffalo. With an 
200 


A BUFFALO HUNT 


air of resignation the negroes accompanied him on the 
short walk, and lunch was eaten on the hilltop. 

Jack, at least, felt that he was well rewarded for his 
climb. A magnificent panorama was open to his view— 
a vast extent of forest-clad country, with here and there 
strips of open ground such as that below in which they 
had discovered the buffaloes. The forest stretched in 
an almost unbroken mass of foliage as far as the eye 
could reach, approaching on the northeast very close to 
Imbono’s village. 

After lunch Jack got up and walked about the hill- 
top, taking a nearer view of the country through his 
field-glass. Here he caught a glimpse of the river, a 
small bluish patch amid the green; there of a little spire 
of smoke rising perhaps from the fire of one of Imbono’s 
scouts. All at once he halted and stood for some mo- 
ments gazing intently in one direction. Far away, across 
a clearing just visible through the trees, something was 
moving, continuously, in one direction. So great was 
the distance that the appearance was as of an army of 
ants. But he fancied he detected a patch or two of 
white amid the mass of black. 

‘‘Mboyo, look here!” he called. 

The chief went to his side, and, stretching his head for- 
ward, gazed fixedly at the moving mass. 

“Soldiers,” he exclaimed suddenly, “black soldiers, 
and white chiefs ! They are going to Ilola.” 

Imbono sprang to his side. 

“It is true,” he cried, “Mboyo speaks the truth. They 
are going to Ilola.” 

Jack drew a deep breath. The long-expected was 
coming to pass. The enemy was at hand! And it was 
ominous that he was coming from the west by land 
instead of by river from the south. This must have 
involved a detour of many miles, through difficult forest 

m 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


country ; but thus the -enemy avoided the certainty of his 
approach being heralded in advance, as it would have 
been if he had come by the river. Elbel was planning a 
surprise ! 

There was no time to be lost in getting ready for hi<i 
coming. 

“Can they reach Ilola to-day, coming through the for- 
est?” Jack asked Imbono. 

It was just possible, replied the chief, but only by dint 
of very hard marching, and they could not arrive before 
nightfall. 

“We must get back,” said Jack; “come, my brothers.” 

They descended the hill, and set off at full speed for 
Ilombekabasi. On the way they met a party of men 
coming under Samba’s guidance to bring in the buf- 
faloes. Jack bade them hasten in their task; they were 
far from any probable line of march of the enemy, and 
the meat might now prove very valuable. Hurrying 
on to his camp. Jack told Barney what he had seen. 

“We’re in for it now, Barney,” he said. 

“And we’re ready, sorr, praise be!” said Barney. 

Jack lost no time. At his request Imbono sent out 
scouts to get more exact particulars of the column and 
its progress, warning them to use the utmost care to 
avoid discovery. Imbono himself returned to Ilola to 
prepare his people for a migration to Ilombekabasi. 
Later in the day the scouts returned with the news that 
the enemy had pitched their camp about four miles away. 
The force consisted of some two hundred forest guards 
armed with rifles, and a much larger number of follow- 
ers carrying spears. Boloko was with them, and Elo- 
bela, and two other white men. The line of march had 
been direct for Ilola, and strict silence was kept. One 
of the scouts had seen Elobela himself strike a man who 
had incautiously shouted to his comrades. 


202 


A BUFFALO HUNT 


“There’s no doubt of their intentions, Barney,” said 
Jack. “They want to surprise Ilola. That means a mas- 
sacre ; but by God’s mercy we know in time !” 

The inhabitants of Ilola and Imbono’s other villages 
were already flocking into the camp, bringing with them 
large supplies of food and their principal belongings. 
Before the sun set the villages were deserted. Jack was 
glad now to think that this contingency had been so long 
foreseen. It would have been impossible to make ade- 
quate arrangements for so large an additional popula- 
tion, if he had waited until the danger was upon them. 
As it was, the huts stood ready. 

It was a strange and impressive scene as Imbono’s 
people filed in. They were excited, but not with alarm 
or fear. Some of them even were merry, laughing at 
little mishaps — the dropping of a basket of manioc, the 
breaking of a pot, the sprawling of children as Pat 
dashed in and out among them, barking as though it 
was he that was shepherding the throng. Barney was 
the master of ceremonies. With Samba’s help he sep- 
arated the various families, and showed each father the 
hut or huts he was to occupy. It was not a wealthy com- 
munity, and only a few of the men had more wives 
than one; but these tried Barney’s patience sorely, and 
he sighed for Father Mahone to come and “tache the 
haythens betther manners.” 

“Only what could he do, if he came?” he said. “Whin 
a man has been fool enough to marry two or three wives, 
faith, I don’t see how ye can alter it unless ye make ’em 
all widders.” 

About two miles from the camp there was a spot 
above the river from which the clearing and village of 
Ilola could be seen. An hour before dawn Jack went 
out with Samba to this spot and waited. Just after day 
had broken they perceived a large body of men rush- 
203 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


ing out from the forest towards the village stockade. 
Through his field-glass Jack saw that the negroes were 
led by two men in white. Imbono, before he left, had 
had the gate of Ilola closed and barricaded. The in- 
vaders did not pause to break it down ; they swarmed up 
the stockade, and momentarily hesitated at the top, as 
though suspecting, from the silence of the village, that 
a trap had been laid for them. Then some of them 
could be seen dropping down inside; the rest instantly 
followed; and Jack smiled as he saw them assemble in 
little groups in the deserted compound, gesticulating in 
their excitement. 

A few minutes later dense volumes of smoke rose 
from the village. The forest guards had fired the huts, 
no doubt in their first fury at the escape of the villagers. 
Jack could not help thinking that they would regret their 
precipitate action. If they intended any long stay in 
the neighborhood, the village would have been more use- 
ful to them intact than as a ruin. He had dismantled 
his own former camp, so that unless Elbel’s men set 
about building for themselves, they would have no shel- 
ter. Their folly only confirmed Jack’s belief that they 
were but a poorly-disciplined rabble, and that Elbel him- 
self was out of his element in work of a military kind. 
Having learned all that he wished to know, Jack re- 
turned to his camp. 

Elbel had clearly not expected the village to be aban- 
doned. Jack wondered if he had learned of the forma- 
tion of the new camp. It seemed likely that news of it 
would long since have been carried down the river. He 
had apparently planned to wipe out the villagers first 
and tackle Jack later. 

“Bedad, sorr, if he’s any sinse at all he will lave us 
alone,” said Barney when Jack told him what he had 
seen. 


204 


A BUFFALO HUNT 


‘T don’t expect that; Fm sure he’ll use his men against 
me. He’ll want his revenge, for one thing; and then he 
has his eye on the gold, remember. He didn’t dig about 
the cataract for nothing. He’ll be glad of any excuse 
for attacking, if he sees a fair chance of beating me. 
You may depend upon it he knows all that uncle has 
been doing, and if he can manage to chuck me out and 
occupy this ground before uncle gets back, it’s all up 
with poor uncle’s claim, Barney. Possession is more 
than nine points of the law in this State. If uncle had 
known the sort of things that go on here, he’d have 
thought twice before spending his money.” 

Very soon after Jack regained his camp, Imbono’s 
scouts came in to report that the enemy was on the 
move. Before midday the head of the column was 
sighted making its way up the stream, this forming on 
the whole an easier approach than the rough, stony 
ground on either bank. There was immense excitement 
in the camp as the people watched the advancing crowd. 
Jack could not but be touched as he observed the de- 
meanor of the people. A few months before the sight 
of so many of the dreaded forest guards would have 
made them cower in abject fear; now, so great was their 
trust in the young Inglesa who had twice defeated Elo- 
bela, and who had prepared for them this fine new vil- 
lage with its wonderful stockade, that they viewed the 
progress of the enemy with feelings only of anticipated 
triumph. 

‘‘Please God, I shan’t fail them,” thought Jack. 

About half a mile below the cataract the column came 
to a halt, and three men in white, attended by half a 
dozen armed negroes, advanced to within less than a 
quarter of a mile of the stockade. 

“The impident scoundrels,” quoth Barney, standing at 
Jack’s side. 


205 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“They do show a pretty cool trust in our forbearance,” 
said Jack; “we could pick them off easily enough.” 

“Begorra, I would, sorr; do they deserve any betther? 
Elbel was a deceitful villain — ^you remember, sorr, whin 
he fired under a flag uv truce at the ould camp. I 
wouldn’t have any more mercy on him than I would 
on a rat.” 

“Yes, you would, Barney. We must play the game, 
whatever they do. And I wonder what they’re up to. 
Here comes a man with a white flag. We shall soon 
see.” 


/ 


206 


CHAPTER XVIII 


elbel’s barrels 

The negro looked by no means comfortable as he 
clambered up the steep side of the gully from the bed 
of the stream and approached the stockade. There was 
no gate in the southern face, and the man seemed 
somewhat uncertain what to do. But, perceiving that 
he had a note in his hand. Jack ordered Lepoko to lean 
over the stockade and take the paper on the point of 
a spear. 

“Now, let’s see what he has to say,” said Jack, un- 
folding the paper. “Listen, Barney: ‘Having returned 
with a force sufficient to reestablish law and order in 
this part of the Congo State, I call upon you instantly 
to surrender the camp, which you have constructed 
without permission on the territory of the State. The 
negroes who are with you are subjects of the State, 
and will be dealt with by me in accordance with the 
powers that I possess. You, being a foreigner, will be 
taken to Boma, to be tried under due form of law by 
the State courts.’ ” 

“Which means quick murder for the niggers, sorr, 
and slow murder for you. Don’t answer his impidence, 
sorr.” 

“Oh, I must answer. We can’t let things go by de- 
fault, and we can go one better than he, Barney. He 
hasn’t copied his letter, you see. It’s very lucky I’ve got 
a duplicate book; who knows? — those documents may 
come in handy some day.” 


207 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


He wrote a brief reply, saying that he was not aware 
there was anything illegal in constructing a suitable 
camp on ground leased from the Societe Cosmopolite; 
that, on the other hand, the natives had sought 
shelter with him and complained of treatment which was 
clearly against all law and justice; and that in these 
circumstances he proposed to remain where he was. 
When this note reached Elbel, he read it to the two white 
men with him, laughed, put it in his pocketbook, then 
returned with his party down the stream. 

'‘A pretty little farce!” said Jack. “He knew what 
my answer would be; all he wanted was a chance of 
examining our defenses.” 

“Sure he didn’t get much for his trouble. He’d have 
to be a deal taller to see much uv us, sorr.” 

During the rest of the day Elbel was seen in the dis- 
tance on various sides of the camp, making further 
observations. From a point on the slope above, he 
could overlook part of the inclosure, and what he ob- 
served from there through his field-glass evidently gave 
him food for thought, for before sunset he marched all 
his men down the stream, followed cautiously by Im- 
bono’s scouts. These reported by and by that the enemy 
had encamped about two miles away. The white men 
had tents, the natives were cutting branches to form 
temporary shelters. Foragers had been sent out in all 
directions. Jack knew that they would do little good. 
There were no people to harry; all were within his 
stockade, and the crops around the villages had all been 
gathered in. But this dearth was not likely to affect the 
besiegers for the present; for the scouts reported that 
some of their canoes had now come up the river loaded 
with stores. 

Jack concluded, from the fact of Elbel’s being in com- 
mand, that the Administration of the Congo State had 
208 


ELBEL’S BARRELS 


not yet seen fit to intervene and equip an expedition 
under regular military officers. The Societe Cosmo- 
polite, in fact, an extremely wealthy corporation, had 
determined to root out this source of disaffection and 
revolt within its territory. The force commanded by 
Elbel represented practically the whole military estab- 
lishment of the Company. He had no doubt received 
telegraphic authority from Europe to undertake the ex- 
pedition, and could rely on the ultimate support of the 
State Government, which, meanwhile, would prefer the 
work to be done by the Company’s troops rather than 
magnify the affair by employing its own forces. 

It soon became clear to Jack that the lesson of his 
previous reverse had not been lost on Elbel. For a 
time, at least, there was to be no repetition of the rush- 
ing tactics that had proved so disastrous. Two days 
passed, and he had made no move. Scouts reported 
that he was busily engaged in building and fortifying 
his camp. The site chosen was a good deal nearer 
to Ilombekabasi than the first night’s bivouac. It lay 
in a hollow about half a mile from the cataract— in the 
face of an equal or inferior enemy, a very dangerous 
position, commanded, as it was, on almost all sides by 
the heights around, but sheltered from rifle-fire from the 
fort, and with a good water supply from a brook that 
fell some distance below into the stream that flanked 
Jack’s settlement. Elbel could afford to ignore its 
strategical weakness by reason of his greatly superior 
numbers. For Jack could not occupy the rim of the 
hollow without drawing most of his men out of the 
fort, thus leaving it open to attack, and in any case 
with only forty-five rifles he could not do much to en- 
danger a camp held by two hundred. 

These reflections passed through Jack’s mind as he 
pondered on the information given by the scouts. His 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


constant preoccupation during the past months with 
problems of attack and defense had given rise to a 
habit of looking at every move or incident in its mili- 
tary bearings. 

‘T wonder whether the fellows in the army class 
would envy me or pity me most!” he thought. 

Elbel attempted nothing in the way of fortification 
for his camp except a light stockade — with his superior 
numbers defensive work seemed almost a superfluity. 
By comparing the reports of various scouts — who, as 
usual with negroes, were somewhat erratic in their ideas 
of number — and by his own observation through his 
field-glass. Jack concluded that Elbel had, in addition to 
his two hundred rifles, about five hundred spearmen. Jack 
himself had, in addition to his forty-five rifles, three hun- 
dred spearmen. The mere numbers were, of course, no 
real index to the proportionate strength of the two 
forces. In ordinary circumstances, indeed, the spear- 
men might almost be neglected; the striking power was 
to be measured in rifles alone. But Jack hoped that 
with the drill and discipline his men had undergone, it 
would be proved that a determined fellow behind a spear 
was still by no means a combatant to be held lightly. 
Had not the Arabs of the Sudan shown this ? He ,had 
no little confidence that, when the time of trial came, 
his three hundred spearmen would prove every whit 
as stanch as the dervishes who broke the British square 
at Abu Klea and threw away their lives by the thousand 
at Omdurman. 

On the second morning after Elbel’s appearance Jack 
found that pickets were posted all around the camp, 
except on the west side where it overhung the gully. 
Clearly it was no longer safe to send out scouts — at all 
events, by daylight. The danger was little diminished 


210 


ELBEL’S BARRELS 


after dark, for fires were lit at various points, and a 
regular patrol established. 

“I don’t care about sending out any of the men, now,” 
said Jack to Barney. ‘‘If one of our fellows was caught, 
his fate would be horrible. It’s to prevent scouting, I 
suppose, that Elbel has posted men round us.” 

“Might it not be to prevent reinforcements from reach- 
ing us, sorr?” 

“Not likely. There are no people for scores of miles 
round, and the country, indeed, is mostly virgin forest. 
The only reinforcement likely to reach us is my uncle’s 
contingent, and their arrival is sure to be advised all 
along the river for days, or perhaps weeks in advance, 
and that’s one of my worries, Barney. I don’t want 
uncle to fall into Elbel’s hands, but how can I stop it?” 

“Send a couple of men off to meet him, sorr, and 
tell him of the danger.” 

“I might do that, perhaps. But, as you see, they’d 
have to run the gantlet of Elbel’s forest guards. Elbel 
either wants to catch my uncle, or he has got some 
scheme of attack in preparation, ’which he’s anxious we 
shouldn’t discover. Whichever it is, he means to keep 
us bottled up.” 

Jack was sitting at the door of his hut with Barney, 
talking by the light of a small fire. Samba had been 
hovering about for some time, waiting, as Barney 
thought, until the time should come for him to curl 
himself up, as usual, at the entrance of the hut after his 
friend, the Irishman, had entered. The conversation 
ceased for a moment. Jack bending forward and draw- 
ing patterns on the ground with his stick. Samba came 
up and began to speak. 

“Begorra, massa,” he said, “me can do.” 

“What can you do, my boy?” asked Jack, smiling a 
211 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


little at the exclamation Samba had adopted from Bar- 
ney. 

Samba struggled to find words in this puzzling white 
man’s tongue. But, finding that his small stock of 
phrases was insufficient, he ran off and fetched Lepoko. 

“Me tell massa all same,” said the interpreter, when 
Samba had spoken to him. “Samba boy say, sah, he 
lib for go out see fings for massa. He no ’fraid. He 
go in dark, creep, creep, no ’fraid nuffin nobody. He 
lib for see eberyfing massa want see, come back one 
time say all same fings he see.” 

“No, no, it’s too dangerous. Samba is the very last 
of my people I should wish to fall into Elbel’s hands.” 

Samba laughed when Lepoko repeated this to him. 

“He no ’fraid Elobela,” said Lepoko. “He hab got 
foot like leopard, eye like cat got, he make Elobela 
plenty much ’fraid. Want go plenty much, sah; say 
Mboyo one fader, massa two fader; two times he want 

go-” 

“Shall we let him go, Barney?” asked Jack doubt- 
fully. 

“To be sure I would, sorr. He’s gone through the 
forest, and cheated the lions and tigers and all the other 
beasts and creeping things, ivery wan uv ’em a mighty 
power cleverer than Elbel.” 

“Barring the lions and tigers, I think you’re right, 
Barney. Well, if he’s to go we must do all we can to 
help him. Could he get down the gully side, I wonder?” 

“He say dat plenty good way, sah. He lib for swim 
like fish, go through water, come back all same.” 

“We’ll let him down by a rope, Barney, and we’ll 
place Mboyo at the stockade in charge of it; he’ll have 
the greatest interest in seeing that the boy goes in and 
out ^safely. And look here, I’ve heard Samba imitating 
the cries of various animals; he’d better arrange with 


212 


ELBEL’S BARRELS 


Mboyo to be ready for him when he hears a certain cry. 
And he must carry enough food with him to last a day 
in case he is prevented from getting back. If he’s out 
more than one day, he must fend for himself; but, I 
fancy, after what he has already been through, at least 
it’d be a very bare country where he can’t pick up enough 
to keep him going. He’s a splendid little fellow.” 

“That’s the truth’s truth, sorr, and sure, whin we 
leave this haythen country, he’d better come back wid 
u.'^ to London, sorr. Wid him wan side of me an’ 
Pat the other. I’d be on me way to be Lord Mayor, 
bedad.” 

Thus it was arranged. With a tinful of food slung 
about him. Samba was let down by a rope from the 
stockade, and crept in the darkness down the gully. A 
few minutes later, from some point on the other side, 
came the strident call of a forest beetle twice repeated 
and Mboyo knew that his son was safely across. 

When morning broke. Jack saw that the pickets were 
placed as they had been on the previous day. He could 
easily have disposed of several of them, either by rifle 
fire or by a quick sally, but even at the present stage he 
had a great reluctance to opening hostilities, which must 
involve much bloodshed and suffering. He resolved to 
bide his time, knowing that so far as food supply was 
concerned he had enough for at least a couple of months, 
and was in that respect probably better placed than Elbel, 
while the secret of the water supply, with good luck, 
would escape detection. Now that the purpose of the 
tank was known. Jack’s prestige among the natives, great 
as it had been before, was much enhanced, and they had 
added to their stock of songs one in which the wonder- 
ful providence of the Inglesa, in arranging that the daily 
water should not fail, was glowingly extolled. 

The day passed undisturbed. Jack was puzzled to 
213 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


account for the enemy’s silence. Elbel must have a 
scheme in preparation, he thought. What could it be? 
Jack had heard a good deal of hammering going on in 
the camp below, the sound coming faintly on the breeze ; 
except for that there was no sign of activity; and the 
hammering was sufficiently accounted for by the work 
of finishing off the construction of the camp. 

Before turning in for the night, he went to the spot 
where Mboyo was posted, to learn whether anything 
had been heard of Samba. While he was there, he heard 
the low, rasping notes of the forest beetle. 

“Samba n'asi!”^ cried Mboyo, springing up. 

He lowered the rope over the stockade. In a few 
moments it was gently tugged, and soon Samba slipped 
over the stockade and stood beside Jack. He had an 
interesting report to make. In the forest, he said a 
large number of men were tapping certain trees for a 
resinous gum, which was being run into small barrels. 
It was the work of making these barrels that had caused 
the continuous hammering Jack had noticed. 

“Good boy,” said Jack; “I suppose you are very tired 
now. Samba?” 

No, he was not tired; he was ready to go out again 
at once, if Lokolobolo wished. But Jack said he had 
done enough for one day, and bade him go to sleep. 

“So that’s their game!” said Jack to Barney, when 
all was quiet. “There’s only one use for resin here, and 
that’s to fire our fort, and they can’t intend to make 
fireballs, or they wouldn’t take the trouble to make bar- 
rels. They want barrels for carriage, and that means 
that they intend to bring the resin here. They can’t 
shy barrels at the natives’ huts, and so much of the 


^ Below. 


214 


ELBEL’S BARRELS 


stockade is stone that it won’t easily catch fire. What 
else is there inflammable?” 

“There’s the blockhouses at the corners, sorr.” 

“You’re right. They are going to fire the blockhouses. 
I’m sorry now I didn’t make ’em of stone, as I intended. 
But we had enough trouble with the wall, and the natives 
are so little used to stonework that, perhaps, after all 
they’d have made a poor job of it.” 

“Sure, I don’t see how they are going to get near 
enough to do any damage, sorr. They can’t come up 
under fire. Do the spalpeens think they’ll catch us nap- 
ping, begorra?” 

“Can’t say, Barney. We must wait and see. The sen- 
tries are arranged for the night, eh?” 

“They are that, sorr. ’Tis mighty hard to keep the 
niggers awake ; not wan uv ’em but would see the inside 
uv the guard-room pretty often if they were in the Irish 
Fusiliers. But Samba and me just take turns to go the 
round all night and keep ’em stirring, sorr; and ’twould 
be a lucky man that got across into this place widout a 
crack over the head.” 

The full purpose of Elbel was seen earlier than Jack 
had expected. A little before dawn, Makoko, who had 
been on duty at the gate in the northern wall, hurried 
down to say that he had heard a sound as of a number 
of men proceeding for some distance up the hill above 
the fort. Jack accompanied him back, gently repri- 
manding him on the way for leaving his post. Judging 
by the sounds, there was unquestionably a large body 
of men on the move. They were approaching as quietly 
as negroes can; it is not an easy matter to persuade a 
force of black men to keep perfect silence. 

While Jack was still with Makoko, another man came 
running up from the southern end of the fort and re- 
ported that he had heard the sound of many men ad- 
215 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


vancing up the stream. Clearly a serious attack was 
intended at last. Sending word to Barney to remain 
on the qui vive at the southern wall, Jack waited anx- 
iously for the glimmering light of dawn to reveal the 
enemy. 

At last he could see them. They took little pains to 
conceal themselves. Elbel’s riflemen were assembling 
on the ridge of the slope above. Among them were men 
carrying each a small barrel on his shoulder. They 
must have made a wide circuit from their camp below, 
so that their movements might not be suspected until 
they were well in position. 

The word was rapidly passed round the fort. In a 
few seconds every man was at his appointed place. The 
women and children had been bidden to remain in their 
huts, for, a part of the inclosure being exposed to fire 
from the slope above, it would have been dangerous 
for any one to cross. Barney and his men at the south- 
ern wall were protected from this fire in their rear by 
the huts. At the northern wall Jack stood on a narrow 
platform by the gate, similar to that which he had used 
at his former camp near Ilola. His riflemen were posted 
below him, half of them at loopholes left at intervals 
in the wall, the remainder just behind, ready to take 
their places at the word of command. 

Jack had never felt less flustered in his life. The 
responsibilities of the past months had bred self-control, 
and the capacity to grasp a situation quickly and act 
at once. And constant work with the same men, whom 
he had learned to know thoroughly, had created a mutual 
confidence which augured well for their success when 
put to the test. 

A glance assured Jack that the main attack, if attack 
was intended, would be made by the riflemen. The 
spearrqen in the valley of the river were designed to 


ELBEL^S BARRELS 


create a diversion and weaken the force available to 
oppose the principal assault. Barney could be trusted 
to hold his own against them. 

So little did the enemy, having gained the position 
above, seek to conceal their movements, that Jack was 
tempted to salute them with a volley that must have 
done great execution — the range being scarcely two 
hundred yards. But Elbel seemed to know by instinct 
the feeling by which Jack would be animated. He evi- 
dently counted on being allowed to fire first. And, 
indeed, there was little time for Jack to consider the 
matter, for even as he made a mental note of the enemy’s 
bravado, he heard a word of command given in a loud 
voice, and saw Elbel emerge from a small clump of 
bushes at the edge of the gully. The whole force, except 
ten men carrying barrels, flung themselves flat on their 
faces; and Jack had only time to give a rapid warning 
to his men when a scattered volley flashed from the line 
of prone figures, the bullets pattering on the stone wall 
like hail on a greenhouse. 

Next moment the men with the barrels dashed for- 
ward, some making for the blockhouse above the gully, 
others for that at the opposite end of the northern wall. 
Through the clear space between the two parties the 
riflemen continued to fire as fast as they could reload. 
It was clear to Jack that Elbel expected the fire of his two 
hundred rifles, added to the unexpectedness of the move- 
ment, to keep down the fire of the defenders long enough 
to enable the barrel men to reach the blockhouses. But 
in this he was disappointed; nothing but a direct and 
combined assault on the wall would have gained the time 
he required. His rifle fire from a distance was quite 
ineffective. Jack had ordered his men to keep out of sight 
and to fire through the loopholes in the wall, aiming, 
not at the riflemen lying on the ground, but at the men 
217 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


sprinting with the barrels. Consequently, when the 
twenty-five rifles within the fort replied to the first vol- 
ley, three of the runners fell on the one side and two on 
the other, their barrels rolling down the slope, some over 
the edge into the gully, others towards the copse on the 
east. 

The other men, seeing the fate of their comrades, 
thought of nothing but their own safety. They dropped 
their barrels and rushed back. But even then they did 
not take the safe course. Instead of scattering and so 
lessening the chances of being hit, the two parties joined, 
and ran up the slope in a compact group. None of them 
reached the line of prostrate riflemen who were still blaz- 
ing away ineffectually at the walls and blockhouses. The 
unfortunate men were caught in full flight and fell 
almost at the same moment, each man struck by several 
bullets. 

Not till then did Jack allow his riflemen to turn their 
attention to the enemy’s firing-line. But one volley was 
sufficient. Elbel saw that his scheme had totally failed, 
and his position was untenable. Not a man of his oppo- 
nent’s could be seen; his men had only small loopholes 
to fire at, and the average negro is not a sufficiently good 
marksman to be formidable in such condition. The de- 
fenders, on the other hand, found the enemy an excellent 
target, for by some inexplicable piece of folly Elbel had 
not ordered them to seek cover behind the many rocks 
and boulders that were scattered over the ground. He 
had lost all his barrel men, and several of his riflemen, 
and within five minutes of the first volley he drew off 
his troops. 

A yell of delight from the stockade followed his retire- 
ment. The men slapped their thighs and shouted “Yo! 
Yo!” until they were hoarse. The women and children 
poured out of the huts and danced about with wild enjoy- 
218 


ELBEL’S BARRELS 


ment. Imbono’s drummer banged with all his might. 
Some of the boys had made small trumpets of rolled ba- 
nana leaves and tootled away to their hearts’ content, 
the sound being not unlike that made by blowing through 
tissue paper on a comb. Amid all the uproar Pat’s joy- 
ous bark acclaimed the success. 

‘Taith, sorr, ’tis real mafficking, to be sure.” 

“Not quite, Barney. There’s nobody drunk.” 

“True, and the haythen sets an example to the Chris- 
tian. Not but what they would be drunk, sorr, if they 
had anything stronger than palm-wine to drink. There 
are no grog-shops here, praise be, wan at this corner 
and wan at that, to tempt the poor cratures.” 

“I only hope they are not shouting too soon, Barney. 
We haven’t done with Elbel yet.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


BREAKING THE BLOCKADE 

Throughout that day Jack was on the alert in anticipa- 
tion of another move on the part of the enemy. But 
Elbel’s men, except the pickets, did not come within 
sight of the fort, and nothing was heard of them. Samba 
wished to go out again on a scouting mission, but Jack 
refused to allow him to leave the fort in daylight; per- 
haps in the darkness he might risk a journey once more. 

Although the attempt to fire the blockhouse had been 
foiled. Jack, thinking over the matter, saw that the feat 
would not have been impossible with the exercise of a 
little common sense, coupled with dash. A second at- 
tempt, better organized, might be successful. 

‘T wish we could guard against the risk,” he said to 
Barney. “We don’t want to be continuously on the 
fidget in case the blockhouses are fired. Yet we can’t 
make ’em fire-proof.” 

“That’s true, sorr; still, something might be done to 
rejuce the inflammation.” 

“What’s that?” said Jack without a smile. To call 
in question Barney’s English was to wound him in the 
tenderest spot. 

“Why, sorr, why not drop down some of them boul- 
ders we keep for repairing the wall? If we let them 
down wid care to the foot of the blockhouses, close up 
against the woodwork, ’twould prevent any one from set- 
ting a match to ’m.” 

“A good idea! we’ll try it. Get the men to carry the 
220 


BREAKING THE BLOCKADE 


stones up to the stockade. We won’t do atiy thing more 
till it is dark.” 

When the sun had set, Jack had the stones hauled up 
to the roof of the blockhouse at the northwest corner, 
and then dropped down outside, as close to the woodwork 
as possible. The work was carried on in almost total 
darkness, only a few rushlights inside the camp prevent- 
ing the workers from colliding with one another. But 
it was impossible to contrive that the heavy stones should 
fall silently, and a shot from up the slope soon told that 
the enemy had discovered what was going on. Active 
sniping for a time gave Jack a good deal of annoyance, 
and one or two of his men were hit, but he persevered in 
his work, and had partly accomplished it when another 
danger suddenly threatened. 

Up the slope, near the position occupied by the enemy 
in the morning, there appeared small points of light, 
which moved apparently at random for a few moments, 
and then came all in one direction, down the hill. They 
all started fairly close together, and Jack counted twelve 
in a line ; but soon some diverged from the rest and went 
off at an angle. The others came on more and more rap- 
idly towards the fort, jumping occasionally, but keeping 
on the whole a surprisingly straight course. 

“Barrels again!” said Jack to Barney. 

Only a few seconds after he had first observed them, 
they came with a quick succession of thuds against the 
wall and the half-finished rampart at the foot of the 
blockhouse, and the points of light spread out into fierce 
tongues of flame. Lighted matches had been attached 
to the barrels, and with the bursting of these by the stone- 
work the resin they contained had taken fire. Of the 
dozen barrels that started, only four had reached their 
goal, the rest having rolled over the gully on the western 
slope as had happened during the day. 

221 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 




Jack hoped that his new stonework was sufficient to 
protect the logs at the base of the blockhouse. But one 
of the barrels, under the impetus gained in its passage 
down the hill, had jumped the boulders, and, breaking 
as it crashed over, burst into flames within an inch or 
two of the woodwork. Another line of barrels was start- 
ing down the slope. Jack had called up his best marks- 
men at the first alarm, and ordered them to take pot-shots 
at the twinkling points of light, or the figures above, 
dimly lit up by the matches attached to the barrels. 
Whether arty of the shots got home he could not tell; 
another set of barrels was trundling down towards the 
fort. 

It appeared to Jack that nothing could save the block- 
house. Burning resin could only be extinguished by 
a deluge of water, and he had no means of bringing 
water from the tank in sufficient quantities. The logs 
were dry, and when once fairly alight, would burn furi- 
ously. Barney suggested dropping a heavy boulder 
on the barrel most dangerously near, but Jack saw that 
the effect of this would be merely to spread the flames 
without necessarily extinguishing them. The fire would 
continue beneath the stone ; it would lick the lowest logs, 
and in a few minutes the whole base of the blockhouse 
would be ablaze. 

The imminence of the danger acted as a spur to Jack’s 
resourcefulness. It flashed upon him that there was one 
chance of saving the fort. Calling to Samba to follow 
him, he rushed from the roof of the blockhouse down 
the ladders connecting it with the second floor and this 
with the ground, and ran at full speed to his hut, where 
he seized an empty tobacco-tin, and searched for a piece 
of wire. For a few moments he could not lay hands on 
any, but then bethought himself of a wired cork of a 
Stephens’ ink-bottle. Wrenching this* out, he hastened 


222 


BREAKING THE BLOCKADE 


to the underground magazine, where the ammunition 
was stored. Samba had preceded him thither with a 
lighted candle in a little lantern of bamboo. 

Among the ammunition was a keg of loose powder 
sent up by Mr. Martindale for refilling cartridge cases. 
While Samba very cautiously held the candle out of 
harm’s way, Jack, with the brad of his smoker’s pen- 
knife, bored two thin holes in the tin and two correspond- 
ing holes in the lid. Then he inserted the wire, and 
filled the tin with powder. Clapping on the lid, and 
firmly securing it by twisting up the wire, he rushed back 
to the blockhouse, up to the roof, and cleared out all 
the men helter-skelter, bidding them go with Samba and 
bring baskets full of earth to the base of the wall. 

The place was now reeking with acrid smoke from 
the burning resin, great black eddies of it whirling over 
the roof, stinging Jack’s eyes, making him cough and 
choke. When none but himself was left — for there was 
some danger in what he purposed — he went to the edge 
of the roof, and, bending over, almost blinded by the 
fumes, he marked the spot where the flame seemed the 
fiercest, and dropped the tin into the midst of it. Though 
he sprang back at once, he had not reached the inmost 
edge of the roof when there was a loud explosion. The 
blockhouse rocked; clouds of sparks flew up; and feel- 
ing the tremor beneath him. Jack feared he had destroyed 
rather than saved. But the trembling ceased. He rushed 
back to the fore edge of the roof and peered over. As 
the smoke cleared away he saw no longer a blazing mass 
below him; nothing of the barrel was left; but all the 
ground for many yards around was dotted with little 
tongues of flame. The force of the explosion had broken 
up the huge devouring fire into a thousand harmless 
ones. 

But the woodwork near which the barrel had rested 


223 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


was smoldering. There was still danger that the 
blockhouse would burn. While that danger remained 
Jack felt that his task was not yet done ; and he instantly 
prepared to meet it. Flames from the other barrels that 
had struck the wall were lighting up the scene. To carry 
out his purpose involved a great risk, but it was a risk 
that must be run. Calling to Samba, who had remained 
nearest at hand, he bade him bring a rope and send 
Barney and Makoko to him. When they arrived, he got 
them to knot the rope about him and let him down over 
the wall into the gully, which was in shadow. Creeping 
round the blockhouse on the narrow ledge between it 
and the gully, he called to the men above to lower some 
of the baskets of earth which had been placed in readi- 
ness. As they reached him he emptied them upon the 
smoldering logs. It was impossible now to keep in 
the shadow; his every movement was betrayed by the 
still flaming barrels; and his work was not completed 
when bullets began to patter about him. His only pro- 
tection was the rough rampart of boulders which had 
been thrown over from the roof. But he bent low; and 
it is difficult even for expert marksmen to aim without 
the guidance of the rifle sights, much more for the aver- 
age negro. He finished his job as rapidly as might be, 
and escaped without a scratch. Then, creeping round 
once more to the gully, he laid hold of the rope and was 
drawn up in safety. 

The other blockhouses meanwhile had been in no dan- 
ger. That at the northeast corner was defended by the 
nature of the ground, which sloped so rapidly that a 
barrel rolled from above could never hit the mark. 
That at the southeast corner, being at the edge of the 
precipice, could only be fired by the hand of man, and 
no man could approach it safely. By averting the danger 
at the northwest. Jack had saved the camp. 

224 


BREAKING THE BLOCKADE 


But the attempt had been so nearly successful that he 
resolved to lose no time in completing the work of pro- 
tection already begun. The moment was come, too, 
for showing Elbel that he could only maintain a thor- 
ough investment of the fort with the acquiescence of the 
besieged. At any time a sally must break the chain of 
pickets, for Elbel’s force was not large enough to sup- 
port them adequately all round. Averse as Jack was to 
shedding blood, he felt that it was necessary to teach the 
enemy a wholesome lesson. 

Before he could do anything, however, he must know 
how the force was distributed and how the pickets were 
placed. He remembered his half-promise that Samba 
should be allowed to go scouting that night. No other 
could be trusted to move so warily or act so intelligently. 
Samba was accordingly let down into the gully. While 
he was gone Jack explained to Barney the plan he pro- 
posed to try, should the boy’s information favor it. 

“I shall lead some of the men out; I don’t know yet 
in what direction. At least, it will surprise Elbel. I hope 
it will alarm his men and throw them into confusion. 
You must take advantage of it to go on with our defenses. 
Let down more boulders from the roof and build them 
up as fast as you can to form a facing, three or four 
feet high, to the two northern blockhouses and the walls 
near them. You’ll only have about half an hour for 
the job, for Elbel will have got his whole force together 
by then, and I shan’t be able to fight them all. But we’ve 
plenty of men to turn on to it, and when I give the signal 
they must tumble over the wall and get to work.” 

Within an hour Samba returned. He reported that 
the enemy had all retired to their camp except the pickets. 
About forty men were posted about a camp-fire up-stream 
near the place where the barrels had been rolled down. 
Another picket of the same strength was lying at the 
225 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


edge of the copse about a quarter of a mile to the east. 
For the first time the western side also was guarded. 
Elbel appeared to have suspected that scouts might cross 
the gully, and had placed a picket of about twenty-five 
men beyond that. Samba had had great difficulty in 
eluding them, and would have returned sooner but for 
the detour he had been obliged to make. 

All favored Jack’s enterprise. The pickets were so far 
from the camp below the southern face of the fort that 
some time must elapse before help could reach them. 
They could only support one another, and the idea of a 
ruse to prevent that had already flashed through Jack’s 
mind. 

Selecting fifteen of his sturdiest riflemen, including 
Makoko and Lepoko, Jack had them lowered one by one 
into the gully, and then himself followed. The night 
was fortunately very dark; all the flames from the bar- 
rels had gone out, and he trusted that the enemy would 
be quite unprepared for any movement from the fort. 
When all were assembled, they crept up the gully in 
dead silence, walking as far from the water as the steep 
sides allowed, so as to avoid kicking stones into it and 
making a splash. At first the gully was at least twelve 
feet deep, but it became more shallow as they proceeded, 
untfl by and by its top barely rose above their heads. 

They had not gone far when they heard laughing and 
talking ahead. However Elbel might regard his defeat, 
it had evidently not affected the spirits of his men; the 
negro’s cheerfulness is hard to quench. Round a bend 
in the stream, out of sight from the fort, came the faint 
glow of the camp-fire; and Jack, peeping cautiously 
round, saw a sentry on each bank, moving backwards 
and forwards, but stopping now and again to exchange 
pleasantries, or more often fatuous remarks about food, 
with the rest of the picket at the fire. It was nothing new 
226 


BREAKING THE BLOCKADE 


to Jack that the Congo soldier’s idea of sentry-go is 
somewhat loose. 

Again Jack was favored by circumstances. The glow 
of the fire did not extend far into the darkness of the 
gully; the noise of the laughing and talking was loud 
enough to drown all slight sounds for some distance 
^ound. Thus, the sixteen men in the gully could ap- 
proach very near the camp-fire without being seen or 
heard. Jack’s plan, already half formed before he started, 
was quickly adapted to the conditions. Silently gather- 
ing his men together, he ordered them in a whisper to 
follow him in a charge with the bayonet; not to fire ex- 
cept at the word of command; not in their pursuit of 
the enemy to go beyond the camp-fire. It would have 
been easy to dispose of at least a third of the picket by 
firing upon them from the darkness; the distance was 
only about a hundred yards, and every shot would tell, 
for they were huddled together. Such an act would 
be justified by all the rules of warfare. Jack knew that 
in a like case he would receive no mercy from the enemy ; 
but he was too young a campaigner to deal with them 
as they would deal with him ; he could not give the order 
to shoot them down unawares. 

When his men clearly understood what was required 
of them he led the way, and they all crept forward again. 
The glow of the fire now made them dimly visible to 
one another, but not to the pickets, who were in the full 
light, nor to the sentries, whose attention was largely 
taken up by the proceedings of their comrades. When 
the sound of talking lulled for a few moments, Jack 
halted ; when it grew in force, and he heard the sentries 
join in the chatter, he seized the opportunity to steal 
forward a few yards more. So by slow degrees they 
approached within forty paces. 

To go farther without discovery seemed to Jack im- 
227 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


possible. Pausing for a moment to whisper once more 
to his men, he suddenly shouted the order to charge, and, 
springing up the bank, dashed forward with a cheer 
that was reinforced by the yells from fifteen lusty throats. 
The sounds of joviality about the camp-fire died on the 
instant; the cheer from the river, echoed by the rocky 
walls of the gully, seemed to come from a host of men. 
Yells of alarm broke from the dusky figures by the fire. 
Some of the men seemed for the moment spellbound; 
others leaped to their feet and made a dash for the rifles 
stacked close by, tumbling over one another in their agi- 
tation; the majority simply scurried away, like hares, into 
the darkness, only anxious to get as far away as possible 
from this shouting host that had sprung as it were out of 
nothingness. As Jack’s men rushed up there were a few 
reports of rifles hastily shot off ; and eight or nine men 
made as if to stand firm near the camp-fire, but they could 
not face the steel gleaming red in the glow. One or two 
hapless wretches were bayoneted before they had time to 
run ; the rest with a wild howl flung down their weapons 
and bolted. 

The sound of the conflict. Jack knew, would be taken 
by Barney as the signal to begin work outside the block- 
houses. What would be its effect on the enemy ? Would 
it draw their pickets on the right and left to the sup- 
port of their comrades? Or would they be so much 
alarmed that nothing but flight would occur to them? 
He thought the probabilities favored the former, for, the 
firing having ceased, the immediate cause of alarm would 
seem to have been removed. Without staying to con- 
sider that the chain of investment would be broken by 
their action, the outer pickets would in all likelihood 
move towards one another for mutual support. 

Here was an opportunity which Jack was quick to 
seize. Without a moment’s loss of time he called his 
228 


BREAKING THE BLOCKADE 


men together and hurried back down the gully, where he 
ordered them to line the banks on both sides, keeping 
well in shadow from the light of the fire. The position 
they took up was about forty yards below the bivouac, 
almost the same spot from which the charge had been 
made. The men had only just established themselves 
when the picket from the eastern quarter came running 
up. Jack^s situation was now so serious that he had no 
longer any compunction. As the negroes emerged from 
the gloom into the light of the camp-fire he ordered his 
men on the opposite bank to shoot. Several of the enemy 
fell; the rest turned tail, finding their comrades falling 
about them without being able to see their assailants. 
But they did not run far; when they had passed beyond 
the circle of light they halted. 

Meanwhile, all was quiet from the direction of the 
other picket beyond the gully. If this was advancing, 
it was with more caution. For some minutes no sound 
was heard; then on his left hand Lepoko detected a 
slight rustle in the brushwood, and he whispered to Jack 
that the enemy were creeping forward, feeling their way. 
At the same time there were sounds of movement on the 
right. 

Now was the chance to attempt a ruse. Withdrawing 
his men stealthily down the stream for a hundred yards. 
Jack halted. The camp-fire was dying down for want 
of fresh fuel ; he hoped that the two parties would mis- 
take each other in the gloom. A quarter of an hour 
passed. Then the air rang with shots and shouts; the 
two pickets had met and come into conflict. The error 
was soon discovered, and then there arose a terrific 
clamor as each party accused the other. 

Jack considered that the work of the fort should have 
been completed by this time, all danger of interruption 
by the pickets having been removed by his sortie. He 
229 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


therefore led his men back along the gully, and arrived 
to find Barney putting the finishing touches to the work 
by the light of his bamboo lantern. 

^^All well?’^ said Jack. 

''All well, sorr. You’re not hurt at all?” 

"Not a bit. None of us scratched. Now we’ll get 
back. I don’t think they’ll try that particular dodge 
again.” 

They had hardly returned within the stockade when 
they heard the sound of a considerable body of men mov- 
ing up the opposite bank of the stream towards the pick- 
ets above. 

"Too late !” said Jack with a chuckle. 

"Truth, sorr. That Elbel was niver intended for a 
sojer, ’tis plain. But who are the two white men wid 
him, thin? Sure, I thought he’d brought ’em wid him to 
tache him what to do, but they would all seem to be birds 
uv wan feather, sorr.” 

"We may find out by and by — perhaps to our cost. 
Meanwhile we had better man the walls and blockhouses 
in case he’s going to favor us with a night attack.” 

But the sounds of movement among the enemy ceased, 
and the remainder of the night passed in unbroken quiet- 
ness. 


23J 


CHAPTER XX 


DAVID AND GOLIATH 

Next morning Jack’s men found, resting against the 
stone wall of the fort, several barrels of resin which had 
not burned. The bumping they had received in roll- 
ing down the slope had shaken out the fuses. This was 
a lucky discovery. The inflammable contents of the bar- 
rels would come in useful— for making fireballs, if for no 
other purpose. Jack had them carried into the fort and 
stored in the magazine. 

Very soon after daybreak Jack saw what seemed to be 
the greater portion of Elbel’s force moving up the hill. 
He counted at least five hundred men, and noticed that 
only about a hundred of these were riflemen, the re- 
mainder carrying spears, or tools of some kind. 

“You see what they are at, Barney?” he said. 

“Shifting their camp, by what it appears, sorr.” 

“No, I don’t think that’s it. Elbel has failed with 
fire ; he’s now going to try water. He’s going to cut off 
our water supply.” 

“Sure, he’s entitled to, as we don’t pay rates, which is 
rubber. But we can do widout his water supply, sorr, 
having a private distillery uv our own.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m right, for you see the men are 
going a great deal farther up the hill than they need 
if they’re merely looking for another base of attack.” 

“Bedad, why shouldn’t we have a little rifle practice at 
’em, sorr? ’Tis long-range firing, indeed, but mighty 
good practice.” 


231 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“No. Our ammunition is too precious to be wasted; 
and even if we hit a few of them that wouldn’t stop 
Elbel’s scheme, whatever it is. We’ll keep our eye on 
♦he river and see if there’s any shrinkage.” 

It was not until late in the afternoon that he got posi- 
tive proof that Elbel was in fact diverting the stream. He 
had fancied for some time that the height of the water 
was less, but only about four o’clock did the fall become 
decided. After that, however, the stream dwindled very 
rapidly, until, towards nightfall, there was only a thin 
trickle of water in the river-bed below the fort, where 
in the morning the stream had been twenty feet broad 
and nearly six feet deep. At the same time a remarkable 
change in the appearance of the country east of the fort 
had attracted the attention of the natives, who swarmed 
up the blockade on that side and gazed in amazement. 
Lokolobolo had brought water into their camp ; but who 
had made water run in a swift river where no river had 
ever been before? 

Nearly a mile away to the east a broad, shallow stream 
was rushing down the slope that extended from the preci- 
pice on which the fort stood, to the foot-hills two miles 
beneath. The river, dammed no doubt by boulders far 
up the hill, had now been forced into the course which, 
but for a rocky barrier, it would long since have discov- 
ered for itself. 

“A very pretty schame, bedad!” said Barney. “And 
I just wish we could set a fountain going, like those in 
Trafalgar Square, just to show Mr. Elbel that he may 
have his river all to himself if he pleases.” 

“That wouldn’t do at all, Barney. We don’t want to 
flaunt our good fortune. In fact, to keep Elbel in the 
dark I think we had better stop that overflow from our 
tank. Now that the cataract has dried up, the overflow 
would easily be seen.” 

23a 


DAVID AND GOLIATH 


“But what’ll we do wid the overflow, sorr? Sure, we 
don’t want a flood in the camp.” 

“Certainly not. We’ll break it up into a number of 
tiny trickles, and let them find their way through the 
stockade at different points. They’ll be sucked up or 
disappear before they reach the ground below.” 

“Bedad, now, I would niver have thought of that! 
Mr. Elbel will think we get our water from Heaven, sorr, 
if he’s iver heard uv it.” 

The work of damming the river having been accom- 
plished, the main body of the enemy marched down just 
before dark and regained their camp. As they passed 
within earshot of the fort, Elbel’s negroes could not re- 
frain from flinging taunts at the men of their color within 
the walls, telling them that they could no longer cook 
their food, much less wash their babies. This made the 
men very angry; they prepared to blaze away with their 
rifles at the gibing enemy, and Jack’s command to drop 
their weapons might perhaps for once have been disre- 
garded had not Samba suddenly struck up the song which 
one of the men had composed, chronicling Lokolobolo’s 
great deeds with water and fire. 

Lokolobolo 
In Ilombekabasi 
Dug a great hole. 

Filled it with water, 

Great is his magic! 

How can we praise him? 

Lokolobolo ! 

Lo ! Elobela 

Came with the fire tubs 
To Ilombekabasi. 

But the Inglesa 
Lokolobolo 

Filled a pot with fire stuff. 

233 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


What a noise! 

What a smoke! 

Fire tubs were broken. 

Ha! Elobela, 

Where is your fire now? 

What is the good of you? 

Inglesa’s magic 
No one can master. 

Is it fire? 

Is it water? 

Lokolobolo 
In Ilombekabasi 
Quenches the fire, 

Keeps water for black men. 

Ha! Elobela, 

Go home to your cook-pot, 

No good in this land. 

In Ilombekabasi. 

The song was taken up one by one by the people, and 
in the delight of singing Lokolobolo’s praise and Elo- 
bela’s shame the jeers of the negroes outside were for- 
gotten. 

That night Elbel posted no regular pickets round the 
fort. He had clearly given up the idea of a strict block- 
ade, which was indeed impossible with the force at his 
command; but, except for the desire to mask his own 
movements, he lost nothing by the withdrawal of his 
pickets, for even if the garrison took advantage of it 
to issue from the fort they could make little use of their 
freedom in a country bare of supplies. Jack did not 
doubt that Elbel had many scouts abroad, and would be 
on the watch for an attempt to obtain water. He would 
imagine that none was procurable save from a distance 
of at least three-quarters of a mile from the fort, and was 
doubtless already congratulating himself on the success 
of his strategy. 


234 


DAVID AND GOLIATH 


Several days passed, and life went on in the camp as 
peacefully as though no enemy was near. The women 
performed their daily tasks of cleaning and cooking; the 
men drilled and exercised; the children amused them- 
selves as children always can. Jack took it into his head 
to teach them some of the round games popular with 
English children, knowing that the elders were sure to 
copy them, and every little novelty tended to amuse them 
and keep them cheerful. Indeed, he found the men so 
like children in their capacity for finding easy amuse- 
ment that one day he started a game of leap-frog for 
them, and soon the whole camp was hilarious, the men 
springing over one another’s backs all round the inclo- 
sure with great shouts of laughter. 

As Jack expected, Elbel kept a sharp watch by means 
of scouts all round the fort to insure that no water 
reached the besieged. Jack smiled as he pictured the 
Belgian’s amazement when day after day went by without 
any sign of distress. Now that the regular night pick- 
ets were removed, some of Jack’s men found it easy to 
get out for little scouting expeditions ; and except for an 
occasional brush between men of the two forces employed 
in this duty, there was nothing to show that four hun- 
dred men on the one side and seven hundred on the other 
were engaged in deadly warfare. In these duels the 
men of Ilombekabasi invariably came off best. They 
were at home equally in the forest and the plain; the 
enemy for the most part were drawn from the Lower 
Congo — an inferior type of negro and less used to fight- 
ing in wooded districts. And a long immunity had ren- 
dered them careless. They were accustomed to see whole 
villages panic-stricken at the sight of an Albini rifle. 
They had had no need to cultivate the art of scouting, 
except in tracking runaways, nor even the higher kind 
of marksmanship; for it was their practice to tie their 

235 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


victim to a tree before shooting. In this way the State 
or Concessionary Company was saved ammunition; and 
indeed one cartridge was frequently sufficient to account 
for two or more men, women or children, if they were 
tied up with due regard for the convenience of the marks- 
man. It was a new and very disconcerting experience 
to meet men of their own color who were not afraid of 
them; and they did not easily adapt themselves to the 
new condition of things. 

For this work of scouting, Jack had found no man 
yet to match Samba. The boy seemed to be endowed 
with a sixth sense, for he went safely in the most dan- 
gerous places, returned more quickly than the rest, and 
brought more information. And though he had made 
himself expert with the rifle presented him by Jack after 
the buffalo hunt, he never took it with him on these 
scouting trips, preferring to go unencumbered. He re- 
lied on his knife. 

One morning, when Jack was awakened as usual by 
Barney, he noticed a very comical look on the Irishman's 
face. 

“Anything happened?" he said. 

“Bedad, sorr, I didn’t mean to tell ye till ye were 
dressed. What d’ye think that little varmint has done 
now ?’’ 

“Samba? No mischief, I hope." 

“Mischief, begorra! Just after daybreak, when you 
were sound asleep, sorr, and I was going the rounds as 
usual, Mboyo calls to me from the wall, and whin I comes 
up to ’m, there he is hauling like the divil on the rope. 
'Samba must be getting fat like me,’ says I to meself, 
lending a hand, 'for sure the boy will not need such a 
mighty big haul!’ Mboyo jabbered away, but I couldn’t 
understand him. And then, sorr, up comes a villainous, 
ugly head, followed by a body ten times the size uv 
236 


DAVID AND GOLIATH 


Samba’s, and a big nigger comes over, almost choked 
with a new kind uv necklace he was wearing, and shaking 
with the most terrible fright mortal man was iver in. 
Mboyo lets down the rope again, and up comes Samba, 
grinning like a Cheshire cat. 

“ ‘Me hab catch,’ says he. ‘Catch what ?’ says I. ‘Be- 
gorral’ says he, ‘boot one!’^ Which was Dutch to me, 
sorr, only he pointed to the nigger. ‘Catch him ?’ says I. 
He nodded his head till I thought ’twould break off. 
‘Kuf^ says 1. *Nyango ^ says he; and thin I laughed, 
sorr, ’cause the idea uv a boy taking prisoner a man ten 
times his size — ” 

“Draw it mild, Barney.” 

“True, sorr, he doesn’t look quite so big as he did. I 
wished to wake ye at once, but Samba said no ; he’d keep 
the prisoner safe till your usual time, and here he is, 
sorr, and the prisoner, too.” 

Jack had been putting on his clothes while Barney 
spoke. Leaving the hut, he saw Samba holding one end 
of the tendril of a creeper; the other end being looped 
about the neck of a tall strong negro. Jack listened 
patiently, and with the aid of many questions, was able to 
piece out his story. 

Creeping in the darkness up the dry river-bed some 
distance from the fort, Samba had seen for a moment the 
form of a man dimly silhouetted against the starlit sky. 
Then the man disappeared, but it was child’s play to 
follow him as he made his way into the channel and 
moved slowly down towards the fort. He had a rifle 
and was head and shoulders taller than Samba; but 
neither his strength nor his weapon was to avail him 


^This man. 

2 Are you speaking the truth? 

3 Mother ! — the strongest affirmative. 

237 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


against the ingenuity and cat-like agility of his young 
enemy. 

It would have been easy for Samba to stalk him and 
make an end of him with his knife; but a brilliant idea 
occurred to the boy; how much better to capture him 
and take a living prisoner to the fort! For two hours 
Samba kept in touch with him, never more than a few 
yards away, yet never by the slightest sound betraying 
his presence. At last the man found a position above 
the fort which satisfied him, for he established himself 
there, apparently intending to wait for the dawn. 

Samba felt sure that when he moved to regain his own 
camp he would retrace his steps up-stream. To go down 
would bring him within view of the fort. His course 
would be to ascend the channel and fetch a wide circuit 
back to his own people. 

Samba acted quickly on this assumption. As silently 
as a shadow he retired some distance up the channel, 
until, groping on the bank, he came across a tough 
creeper. From this he cut off three or four yards of a 
pliant tendril, and with deft fingers made a slip-knot at 
one end. Then he went again down-stream, and made 
his way to a rock overhanging the left bank, whence he 
had many a time speared fish while the fort was being 
built. On this rock he lay at full length, ready to move 
at the slightest sound of the negro stirring. 

When dawn broke Samba saw that the man was star- 
ing intently at the fort. After a prolonged exami- 
nation he turned, and, as Samba expected, moved up 
the gully, keeping under the left bank to avoid obser- 
vation. Slowly and cautiously he picked his way up- 
ward, little recking of the lithe form stretched like a 
panther on the rock above. He was passing the rock, 
the rifle in his left hand, the right hand assisting his 
wary steps over the rugged channel, when the lasso curled 
238 


DAVID AND GOLIATH 


gently over his head ; a short, vigorous tug, and the man, 
dropping his rifle and clutching at the strangling cord 
around his throat, was pulled backwards on to the rocky 
side of the gully. Samba had marked where the rifle 
fell, and leaped nimbly down. Before tlie negro, wrig- 
gling to his feet, had succeeded in loosening the terrible 
noose. Samba was at his side, the Albini in his hand. 

The man could have killed him at a blow, but the sud- 
denness of the onset and the shock of his fall had robbed 
him of all power of action. When Samba said that he 
must either accompany him to Ilombekabasi or be shot, 
he saw no third course and accepted the first. Perhaps 
he was tired of his service with Elobela ; perhaps he was 
curious to see the village of the wonderful Lokolobolo; 
certainly he was very much afraid of being shot. So he 
made no resistance, but went quickly down the gully, a 
step or two in advance of Samba, who carried the rifle, 
as he did not fail to remind his captive from time to 
time. 

Through Lepoko, Jack questioned the man. He showed 
no reluctance to answer, no wish to conceal his employ- 
er’s purposes. Esprit de corps, Jack surmised, was a sen- 
timent not cultivated on the Congo. The prisoner con- 
fessed that Elobela exulted in the belief that within a 
few days the fort would be compelled to surrender by 
lack of water. And he had promised his men an orgy 
when the surrender should take place. Not a soul should 
be spared. There were man-eaters among his force, and 
they were looking forward to a choice banquet; many 
young and tender children frolicked in Ilombekabasi. 

Jack felt himself turn pale as he heard this. The facts 
were coming home to him. The thought that little Da- 
kota, the chubby boy whom Barney employed to wash 
dishes, or little Ilangala, the girl whom the same inde- 
fatigable factotum had taught to darn his socks, might 
239 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


fall into the hands of these ruthless cannibals, to be torn 
limb from limb and sacrificed to their brutal appetites, 
kindled emotion within him much more poignant than 
the mere report that such things had happened, some- 
where, at some time. 

He dismissed the man, under guard, and went to his 
hut, wishing to be alone. An hour or two later Lepoko 
came to him; the prisoner had given more information. 

“Him say, sah, big massa lib for come back up ribber. 
Him say Elobela no let massa come to Ilombekabasi ; 
catch him, sah.” 

Here was a new source of uneasiness and anxiety. 
Jack had longed for his uncle’s return; now he almost 
wished that something had happened to prevent his de- 
parture. Already he had had such proofs of Elbel’s vin- 
dictive and unscrupulous temper that he dreaded what 
might happen should Mr. Martindale fall into his hands. 
But for the moment he saw no means of warning his 
uncle, and he tried to crush his fears and forebodings. 

During the next few days several of Elbel’s scouts 
were killed or wounded by Jack’s men, who had so far 
been wonderfully successful in escaping injury. One 
man of the enemy, who was brought in wounded, con- 
firmed the first prisoner’s statement that the Inglesa was 
said to be on his way. The river was being watched at 
various points of its course, and Jack recognized the 
hopelessness of attempting to evade these sentinels and 
give his uncle timely warning. 

Ten days had passed since the stream had been di- 
verted, and the last captured scout said that Elobela was 
growing very impatient. He could not understand how 
the fort had been able to hold out so long. Every day 
he expected to see a flag of truce hoisted and to receive 
a message asking for the terms of surrender. One evening 
another scout was captured, and from him Jack learned 
240 


DAVID AND GOLIATH 


that his secret had at last been partly discovered. An- 
gry at being so long balked, Elbel had determined to find 
out the source whence the defenders obtained the water 
he knew they must have. He sent out scouts for this 
express purpose. One of them, creeping up the bed of 
the stream below the southern face of the fort, had dis- 
covered that the precipice, which from a distance looked 
dry, was running with water, and that a thin stream was 
trickling into the gully. The ground had gradually be- 
come saturated, and the overflow which had at first dis- 
appeared into the earth was now making itself only too 
visible. When the discovery was reported to Elbel, he 
concluded that there must be a spring within the fort. 
Great was his fury at having wasted so much time and 
labor fruitlessly. In his anger he declared that the de- 
fenders should have plenty of water in future. 

“What did he mean by that?” asked Jack. 

The man did not know. Elobela did not tell his pur- 
poses to the black men. 

The very next morning it was observed that a large 
body of men was on the move up the hill. Jack hurried 
to the top of the northwest blockhouse and followed the 
movements through his field-glass. This time an even 
larger force was engaged than had been previously em- 
ployed to dam the stream. Two parties, riflemen and 
spearmen, numbering in all, as he estimated, nearly six 
hundred, were marching up the heights. Clearly .some 
new work was to be undertaken, and it must be of no 
little magnitude. There were no signs of preparation for 
an immediate attack. The troops continued their upward 
march for at least a mile. Then Jack was surprised to 
see them set to work rolling boulders down the hill to- 
wards the slope at the northeast of the fort and the new 
course of the river. Whatever the scheme was, it in- 
volved a great deal of labor, for the whole day was 
241 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


spent upon it, and still the parties of workers had made 
but small progress down the hillside. It became clear 
to Jack that the supply of boulders lower down had been 
used up in constructing the dam. More boulders were 
evidently required, and to procure these Elbel had had to 
take his men a considerable distance up the hill. 

Late in the afternoon the negroes were marched back 
to camp. As soon as it appeared safe. Jack sent Samba 
out to ascertain what had been done. When he came 
back he reported that a large quantity of stones had been 
collected near the dam, and that though the main body 
had returned to their camp, there were still several large 
parties engaged in hauling boulders nearly a mile away 
from this point. 

Jack could form no idea of what Elbel’s plan was, but 
it seemed to him that in any case the time had come to 
meet it with a counterstroke. For hours that night 
Jack sat with Barney, discussing every means of striking 
a blow that occurred to him ; but he came to no decision. 
A stand-up fight in the open was impossible ; there could 
only be one end to that, and at present the enemy’s move- 
ments did not suggest to him any opportunity for strat- 
agem. 

Next morning he stood with Barney at the stockade, 
watching the enemy as once more they marched up to 
the scene of the previous day’s work. As usual, he did 
his best to count them — no easy matter — for the men did 
not march in orderly ranks like a disciplined regiment, 
but either in small groups or in several long files. 

‘‘Elbel is getting impatient,” remarked Jack at last. 
“He wants to hurry up that work of his, for I make out 
that he is taking over fifty more men up to-day.” 

“Sure there can’t be more than fifty left in camp, sorr.” 

242 


DAVID AND GOLIATH 


*T suppose not. That’s rather risky,” he added thought- 
fully, ‘‘in an enemy’s country, Barney.” 

“Would you be meaning to go for them, sorr?” re- 
turned Barney, his eyes lighting up. “Bedad, I’d rejoice 
in that same. I haven’t told ye, sorr, but many’s the 
time I’ve felt I should just go raging mad if I had to 
stay in this camp much longer. ’Tis all very safe and 
comfortable, sorr, but ’tis a prison all the same, and 
there’s no man on earth likes to be caged up less than 
an Irishman.” 

“D’you think we could do it, Barney? The camp is 
only half a mile below us ; Elbel’s men are a mile above, 
some at least a mile and a half. Could we rush the camp 
before the main body could be brought to its relief?” 

“Say ’tis two miles between ’em as the crow flies; 
they could run that in twelve minutes widout distressing 
themselves.” 

“But they couldn’t take the shortest road, because that 
would bring them under fire from our walls. The ‘dis- 
tance would be a good deal more than two miles. And 
we should have to cover half that distance to the camp 
and back, the return journey uphill. It doesn’t leave 
much margin, Barney.” 

“Five minutes at the very most, sorr. But a man can 
do a power o’ fighting in five minutes.” 

“Let us think it out carefully. We mustn’t throw away 
all our success by a mad enterprise now. We oughtn’t to 
weaken the defensive strength here much^ for Elbel has 
such numbers that he could afford to lose a few in 
storming.” 

“And we needn’t, sorr. ’Tis not numbers that will 
count in rushing the camp ; ’tis dash, sorr, and ivery man 
together.” 

“That’s quite true. And I think our men will work 
together better than Elbel’s. But there’s a very serious 
243 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


difficulty — that outpost of his half-way between us and 
his camp. It’s the only post he has kept up permanently, 
and now it’s a nuisance to us.” 

He referred to a couple of men stationed at the edge 
of a copse to the west of the stream. They were screened 
by rocks, and from their position they could see the block- 
houses and the tops of the huts, and keep the west and 
south quarters of the fort under fairly strict observation. 

“You see, they would instantly detect any movement 
of ours down the hill; and by the time we got to the 
camp the enemy would be on the qiii vivef* 

“There’s only wan thing to be done, sorr.” 

“Well?” 

“Shut the eyes and the ears and the mouths uv the nig- 
gers at the outpost.” 

“All very well ; but they’re too well screened to be shot 
at, and killing them is the only way to destroy all their 
senses. Besides, it would be madness to fire. The sound 
would alarm the enemy and spoil our plans.” 

“ ’Twas not meself that thought of firing at all, at 
all, sorr. I was thinking uv Samba.” 

“Samba! What can he do?” 

“Sure, and I don’t know no more than the dead, or 
I’d tell it you meself, sorr. But Samba’s the ould wan 
himself at schaming; will I fetch him?” 

“Certainly. We’ll see if he can do anything. Hurry 
up!” 


244 


CHAPTER XXI 


A DASH AND ALL TOGETHER 

Barney brought back with him both father and son. 
Mboyo was a finely-built negro, but Samba, who had 
been growing rapidly, promised to outstrip his father in 
height, as he already excelled him in nimbleness of wit. 
He had a noble brow, and eyes of extraordinary luster; 
and Jack could not help contrasting him with the mean- 
looking white man who, in the providence of King Leo- 
pold, was intrusted with the lives of such people as 
these. 

Jack explained his purpose, and the difficulty which 
seemed to stand in the way. A glance was exchanged 
between Samba and his father; then the boy said that 
they would deal with the outpost. 

“How will you do it?’^ 

“We shall creep upon them.’’ 

“But it is daylight.” 

“True. We may fail; but we shall do our best.” 

“Very well. Now we must get our men together, Bar- 
ney. It will be useless for Samba and Mboyo to start until 
we are ready. In fact, we will postpone the whole thing 
for an hour or two. In the hottest part of the day the 
men in the camp will probably be dozing or fast asleep; 
even if they’re awake they’ll probably not have all their 
wits about them.” 

He selected twenty riflemen, including Imbono, Ma- 
koko and Lepoko, and fifty spearmen, the pick of the 
force, and ordered them to assemble at a given signal 
245 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


at a small exit he had recently had cut in the base of the 
wall on the gully side. The hole had been made at a 
spot where the gully was very rugged and covered with 
creepers, so that any one leaving the fort by this small 
aperture could scarcely be detected except by an observer 
placed immediately opposite across the gully. The por- 
tion of the wall which had been removed could be 
replaced, and it would be impossible, save on very close 
scrutiny, to discover the existence of the exit. 

A dozen of the men, besides carrying their weapons, 
were to sling round their shoulders some large fireballs, 
which had been made under Barney’s superintendence 
from the resin in the confiscated barrels. 

“Begorra, sorr, ’tis meself that has an idea,” cried 
Barney in the midst of these preparations. “Couldn’t 
we do something to hould the attention uv those villains 
at the outpost while Samba and the chief are doing their 
job?” 

“A good idea, indeed. What do you suggest?” 

“ ’Deed now, I wish we had Mike Henchie and Denis 
O’Sullivan, and a few more uv the bhoys. We’d treat 
the niggers to the finest dancing wid the shillalahs that 
iver was seen this side uv Limerick.” 

“I wish we had! You speak of shillalahs. Won’t 
Indian clubs do? I have it! We’ll get some of the 
children to go through their exercises. Go and collect 
them. Samba— Lofinda and Ilafa and Lokilo and Isun- 
gila ; they’re the best, and about a dozen more. But hang 
it! I forgot. They won’t be seen over the stockade.” 

“Sure, there’s the platform by the blockhouse, sorr. 
’Tis uncommon small for a stage play, but ’tis meself 
could make it wider in a brace uv shakes.” 

“Then do so, like a good fellow. It’s a capital idea 
of yours, Barney.” 

The platform was quickly enlarged. Then, just after 
246 


A DASH AND ALL TOGETHER 


midday, when the sun was blazing fiercely, and in tlie 
ordinary course of things everybody would be at rest 
in the huts, Barney marshaled some twenty children, 
boys and girls, on the platform, and Jack accompanied 
Mboyo and Samba to the little exit. 

'‘You must give me a signal if you succeed with the 
outpost,” said Jack, as they prepared to slip through. 
“It must not be a sound. You had better show yourself 
for a moment above the rocks. Samba.” 

The instant they had reached the gully, Imbono’s 
drummer began to beat his drum, not with the powerful 
strokes that would have sent a thunderous boom echoing 
for miles around, but with gentle taps that would scarcely 
be heard beyond the two outposts. At the same time two 
or three children blew softly through their little trum- 
pets of banana leaves. In a moment two woolly heads 
could be seen cautiously peeping over the rocks for which 
Mboyo and Samba were making. Then the performance 
began. Instructed by Barney, the children on the plat- 
form swung their clubs about, wondering why they were 
forbidden to sing the song about Lokolobolo which usu- 
ally accompanied their exercise. They knew nothing of 
the intention of their instructor, nor why he had chosen 
this hot hour instead of the cool of the evening ; but they 
loved him, and delighted in the rhythmic motion, and 
they plied their clubs gracefully, all unconscious of the 
four curious eyes watching them from the’ rocks a few 
hundred yards away. 

Jack saw nothing of their pretty movements. He was 
at the wall. The two men of the outpost gazed at the 
children. Jack gazed at the men. Below him squatted his 
warriors, subdued to unnatural quietness by the thought 
of what was before them. Impatiently they waited for 
the word. They did not know exactly what they were 
to do ; Lokolobolo had simply said they were to follow 
247 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


him. But they knew Lokolobolo; had he not time and 
again brought Elobela’s schemes to naught? Lokolobolo 
had said they were to follow him; and they were con- 
fident that where he led was the one place in the world 
for them. 

Twenty minutes passed. The performance on the plat- 
form still went on. Then Jack suddenly saw the two 
black heads above the rocks disappear. Next moment 
Samba’s head showed itself where they had been. 

''AiyokoT^ said Jack to his men. 

Quickly, one by one, they slipped through the nar- 
row hole, and formed up under cover of the thick-grow- 
ing creepers in the gully. Jack went last, saw that the 
opening was closed behind him, and turned to address 
his men. 

‘‘We are going to Elobela’s camp,” he said. “We shall ^ 
go down the gully until we come opposite to it, then I 
shall lead you; you will come behind me silently, keep- 
ing your ranks. I hope the men in the camp may be 
asleep. You will not fire until I give the word. When 
we have driven them out of the camp those of you who 
have fireballs will set fire to their huts. Then seize on 
all the guns and ammunition you can find, and return as 
quickly as possible to the fort.” 

The men’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Stealthily 
as panthers they crept down the dry gully after their 
leader. They did not know that behind them, at the 
stockade, Barney, having abruptly dismissed the chil- 
dren, was watching with a very wistful look. The good 
fellow wished that he were with them. 

Down they went, as rapidly as the rough ground per- 
mitted, scarcely making a sound. At length Jack halted. 

He turned and gave one quick glance over the eager 


1 Now. 


248 


A DASH AND ALL TOGETHER 


faces; there was no falterer among his band. Then he 
scrambled over the brink of the gully. Lepoko was first 
after him, Makoko was second ; the rest of the men stood 
upon no order of going, but made each for the easiest 
point of ascent. And there Mboyo and Samba joined 
them. Standing on gently sloping ground. Jack looked 
eagerly ahead. Had his movement been detected ? 
There, two hundred yards away, was the camp within 
its light stockade. Not a man was to be seen. The 
midday sun beat fiercely down; doubtless the garrison 
were enjoying a siesta. No sentry was posted, or, if 
posted, he had forgotten his duty. The gate of Ilombe- 
kabasi on the northern face was far away; what simple 
negro would suppose that the enemy was approaching 
silently from the nearer end? 

In compact and orderly ranks Jack’s men were sprint- 
ing noiselessly after him, holding their weapons so that 
no clash or click should disturb the silent camp. They 
were within a few yards of the stockade when suddenly 
there was a cry. All were black men in the camp save 
one. At that moment he, in the intolerable heat, was 
about to leave his tent and bathe in a clear stream that 
ran through the inclosure. He saw the running band; 
he cried to his men, and, flinging away his towel, sprang 
back to his hut to get his rifle. He was too late. Jack, 
getting a “shove up” from one of his men, was on and 
over the stockade; in a few seconds his men were leap- 
ing all around him. And now their tongues were loos- 
ened. Yells and rifle-shots aroused the lethargic garri- 
son, some from sleep within their huts, some from 
drowsy lolling in shady quarters by the stockade. For 
most of them one glance was enough. Here was Loko- 
lobolo, the Inglesa, and with him a crowd of men, among 
whom they recognized some they had beaten in Ilola with 
the whip. With frantic yells of alarm they ran for dear 
249 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


life across the compound to the gate on the farther 
side, out into the open, never pausing until they had 
gained the forest fringe, with half a mile between them 
and the men they feared. 

But not all ; the white man had seized his rifle and col- 
lected a small band about him. Mboyo, near Jack, gave 
a cry; among the negroes around the white man he saw 
Boloko, his renegade brother. Taking cover where they 
could, they began to fire at the invaders, hastily, frantic- 
ally. Jack had his men in hand. Bidding them also 
take cover behind the huts, he sent those who had fire- 
balls to creep round the camp and set fire to the huts. 
Soon volumes of dense, suffocating smoke bellied across 
the camp, screening attackers from defenders. Then 
Jack gave the order to close in upon the few who re- 
sisted. With triumphant yells his men swept forward 
through the smoke — a few shots were fired; one or two 
men fell; then the white man, with Boloko and the rest 
of his band at his heels, made a dash for the gate. Two 
men dropped ere they could pass through; but the white 
man and Boloko and half a dozen others were more for- 
tunate. Out in the open they ran like hunted deer, and 
Elobela’s burning camp was left in the hands of Loko- 
lobolo. 

Jack lost no time. The stockade and the huts on the 
windward side were ablaze; soon the whole place must 
be in flames. The sound of the shots, the sight of the 
smoke, would bring back Elbel and all his force. Shout- 
ing to his men to collect all the arms and ammunition 
they could carry and then rush back to the fort, Jack 
went outside the stockade beyond the cloud of smoke to 
keep watch. The flames were roaring and crackling be- 
hind him; but even at this distance, nearly two miles 
from the place where Elbel was at work, he fancied he 
beard the shouts of the amazed and angry enemy. Then 
250 


A DASH AND ALL TOGETHER 


suddenly the deep, resonant note of Imbono’s drum struck 
his ear. Barney must be warning him ! He turned and 
called to his men to delay no longer. Back to the fort! 

Meanwhile Barney had followed the movements of the 
gallant band. He heard the shots and yells, and saw 
the first spiral of smoke; then he hastened to the north- 
west blockhouse, calling to all the riflemen left with him 
to line the wall overlooking the gully. In a few minutes 
he saw the negroes above dashing helter-skelter down 
the slope. And yes; there was Elbel at their head, a 
figure in white, running as though he were running for 
a prize. Barney smiled with satisfaction. 

“Begorra! They’re forgetting me!” he murmured 
pleasantly, as he saw that the enemy, in their frantic 
haste, were making for the shortest path along the far- 
ther edge of the gully, within easy range of the camp. 
Barney determined to wait until they were well abreast 
of him, and then give them a volley. But the impatience 
of a negro forced his hand. In the excitement of the 
moment one of the riflemen, free from Jack’s restrain- 
ing presence, fired his piece. The shot brought Elbel to 
his senses. He suddenly remembered the danger into 
which he was running. Turning sharp to the right, he 
sprinted straight to the cover of the copse. Some of his 
men followed him : others ran heedlessly on. Growling 
at the man who had spoilt his scheme, Barney gave the 
order to fire, and half a dozen of the enemy fell. But 
Elbel had escaped him; and the rest of his men took 
warning and diverged from the direct course, as he had 
done. Barney saw that no more damage could be done, 
and, ordering his men to cease firing, returned to the 
other end of the fort to see how Jack was faring. 

Here they come! Makoko is leading, staggering up 
the gully under the weight of half a dozen rifles. Be- 
hind him is Lombole, poising a load of ammunition on 

251 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


his head. There is Lingombela, with a lot of cartridge 
pouches roped to his back. So one after another they 
file up the gully. Barney opens the little gate in the 
wall; willing helpers within haul the loads through. No 
man enters until all the rifles and ammunition have been 
handed in; then they scramble through, laughing and 
jesting; and Jack comes last of all. 

“Well done, sorr !” said Barney heartily. 

“Well done, Barney !’’ returned Jack, gripping his 
hand. “By Jove! What’s that?’’ 

A loud explosion set the air trembling, and a hundred 
echoes flying from the rocks around. A dense volume 
of flame and smoke rose from the site of Elbel’s camp. 

“There goes the last of their ammunition I” said Jack 
with a laugh. “We’ve got the best part of it here.” 

“Bedad, sorr, now’s the chance for me meself. Give 
me leave, sorr, and I’ll go at them wid the men and wipe 
them clean off the face uv the earth.” 

“Stop, stop, Barney ! We mustn’t be impatient. 
They’ve no more ammunition in reserve, but every man 
who was with Elbel will have a good many rounds with 
him. We can’t risk a pitched battle against two hundred 
rifles.” 

“Ochone, sorr! Will I never get a chance at all?” 

“Cheer up! Your chance will come, and you’ve done 
splendidly as it is. It was a fine idea of yours to sound 
that drum when you saw them running down. And it 
was your idea to set something going here to occupy the 
attention of the outpost. By the by, I haven’t had time 
to ask Samba yet how they dealt with those fellows.” 

He called up the boy. His story was very simple. 
Mboyo and he had crawled round under cover of the 
rocks and bushes and come upon the unsuspecting sen- 
tries from the rear. They had their knives ; the men died 
without a sound. Jack shuddered. It was not an Eng- 

252 


A DASH AND ALL TOGETHER 


lishman’s way of dealing with an enemy; it was the 
negro’s way. But his feeling of compunction was some- 
what diminished when Samba added that one of the men 
was Bomolo, the brutal forest guard who had been the 
terror of Imbono’s people. For how many maimings and 
murders had this man been responsible? Surely in this 
quick death he had met with far less than his deserts. 

Jack had every reason to be satisfied with the success 
of his sortie. To have burned the enemy’s camp, cap- 
tured more than half their reserve ammunition, and de- 
stroyed the rest, was no mean feat. And as for the 
people of Ilombekabasi, they were frantic with delight. 
So quickly had Jack made his preparations that the ma- 
jority of the people knew nothing of what was happen- 
ing until they heard the first shot. Then they crowded 
to the wall and watched eagerly. The camp itself was 
hidden from them by the contour of the hill, but they 
saw the smoke rising above the bushes and hailed it with 
loud shouts. When they understood the meaning of the 
great noise that followed Lokolobolo’s return they were 
almost beside themselves with joy. And in the cool of 
the evening Jack allowed them to hold a great feast, 
after which Imbono reeled off a long oration — in praise 
of Lokolobolo, and the village bard composed and chanted 
a new song in numerous stanzas, the whole populace 
roaring the chorus: 

O Kelaki na? 

Bosak, owa wanga, 

Bosak owa wanga, 

Lokolobolo 


iWho did it? 

The master of the house, 
A most clever person, 
Lokolobolo. 


253 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


For several days after the sortie Jack was left undis- 
turbed. He guessed how Elbel was occupied, and his 
conjecture was confirmed by Samba, who at once re- 
sumed his scouting work. Elbel was constructing 
another camp a good- distance east of his former posi- 
tion. And he was spending more time and labor on it; 
the stockade was more than usually high and thick, and 
was flanked with bastions after the model of the block- 
houses at Ilombekabasi. 

Samba also discovered that on the day after the burn- 
ing of the camp one of the white men with twenty 
paddlers had gone down the river. Jack had no doubt 
that he had been despatched to the headquarters of his. 
Company for more ammunition. Clearly Elbel was ren- 
dered only the more determined by his successive rebuffs. 

‘‘And I don’t wonder at it,” remarked Jack, talking the 
situation over with Barney. “We are making hay of 
the rubber collection in this district, and Elbel’s Company 
will be pretty mad with him. I understand why he 
hasn’t got help before this from the State forces. For 
one thing, he has got to rehabilitate himself with his Com- 
pany, who’ll certainly cashier him if he doesn’t find a 
way out of the mess he has got into. For another thing, 
if he brings the State forces on the scene he’ll most likely 
lose all chance of collaring uncle’s gold, and I believe 
that’s at the bottom of it right through. But things can’t 
last much longer as they are. The State must intervene 
soon, whether Elbel likes it or not.” 

“And what then, sorr ?” 

“Then it will be all up with us, I’m afraid. But we 
won’t look forward to that. I only wish I could find 
some means of sending word to England of what goes 
on here, and what we’re doing.” 

“What would be the good uv it, sorr? Sorrow a bit.” 

“Why do you say that?” 


254 


A DASH AND x\LL TOGETHER 


"Why ! Because in England they’re all too busy mak- 
ing money to attend to such things — making money, sorr, 
or fighting tooth and nail about education, or dreaming 
about foot-ball. Now, if Ireland had Home Rule — ” 

“No politics, Barney! I don’t agree with you. I’m 
as sure as I’m alive that if the people at home really 
knew how abominably the natives are treated — knew 
about the floggings and maimings and murders, they’d 
make such an outcry that either King Leopold would be 
forced to change his policy or some one would step in 
and manage things for him. If only England and 
America would join hands!” 

When Elbel had completed his new camp, he resumed 
the work far up the hill which the sortie had interrupted. 
Jack was still at a loss to understand what the Belgian’s 
scheme was, and he was prevented from finding out by 
the fact that every night a strong body was left on guard, 
as he knew by the many camp-fires at the top of the 
ridge. 

One afternoon, however, the secret was explained. 
One of the men placed on the lookout at the north- 
eastern blockhouse reported that he saw a stream of 
water rushing down the hill. Jack hastened to the spot 
with his field-glass, and was somewhat alarmed to see 
that the man’s information was correct; water was cer- 
tainly streaming down over the rocky ground, making 
a course that seemingly would bring it right against the 
fort wall. 

“He’s going to flood us out!” thought Jack. “He 
must have built an embankment across the new course 
''f the river.” 

This was a manoeuver which he had not foreseen, and 
one which it seemed impossible to counter. The water, 
gathering impetus as it flowed down the hill, would al- 
most infallibly undermine the wall, even if it had not 

255 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


force enough to wash it away altogether. But as he 
watched, for the moment so much taken aback that he 
could not think of anything to be done, his consternation 
was changed to amusement, for about two hundred yards 
up the hill the water made a swerve to his right, and 
llowed with increasing rapidity in that direction. The 
contour of the hill was such that, instead of coming 
straight down, as Elbel had evidently expected, the 
stream, finding the easiest course for itself, took at this 
point a definite trend to the southwest. After all, it 
would only wash the blockhouse on which Jack stood. 

Jack instantly saw what he ought to do. Running 
down to the base of the stockade, he summoned a large 
body of workers, and set some of them to dismantle the 
blockhouse, the remainder to pull down the wall and 
build it up again several feet behind its former position, 
and in such a way that, instead of forming the angle of a 
square, it lay across, making a line parallel with the 
course of the stream. 

They had hardly got to work before the full body of 
water was upon them. But so many men were employed, 
and they moved so rapidly, that only one or two logs 
were carried away by the current, the solidly-built block- 
house serving as a dam and protecting the workers be- 
hind. The main stream fell with a roar over the steep 
slope on the edge of which the blockhouse stood — a slope 
only less precipitous than that of the cataract, now a 
thing of the past, at the opposite corner of the fort. 

Only a few minutes later a tremendous outcry was 
heard from the direction of Elbel’s new camp. For a 
moment it startled Jack. Had the enemy taken advan- 
tage of the sudden flood to organize an attack in force? 
But the thought had hardly crossed his mind when he 
burst into laughter, causing his workers to pause and 
look around in astonishment. 

256 


A DASH AND ALL TOGETHER 


‘‘A magnificent idea!” he said to Barney. ^‘D’you see 
what has happened? The silly fellow is flooding his 
own camp.” 

“Bedad, sorr, that’s what comes uv being too clever by 
half.” 

‘Tt comes of playing with things he knows nothing 
about. He’s tried an engineer’s job without experience 
and without surveying instruments. It’s ticklish work 
interfering with the course of nature, and you never 
know what will happen if you set water on the run. 
Look at them, Barney! ’Pon my soul, it’s the funniest 
thing I’ve ever seen. There’s Elbel himself, do you see? 
scampering down the hill like a madman.” 

“Like a mad gorilla, sorr.” 

“And all his men after him! By Jove! Can’t they 
yell ! He’ll have to shift his quarters again, Barney.” 

“And sure I hope all his food is soaked and all his 
clothes in the wash-tub. A bath will do those greasy 
niggers no harm.” 

“We’ll build up our blockhouse a few yards to the 
left and be none the worse. Come, Barney, let’s go and 
lend a hand.” 


257 


CHAPTER XXII 


A MESSAGE AND A MEETING 

Ilombekabasi had peace. Elbel was sufficiently occu* 
pied for a couple of days in constructing a third camp, 
which he placed still farther eastward in the direction of 
Ilola, but still between Jack and the river. And even 
when the camp was completed he gave no sign of further 
operations. Jack was forced to conclude that his enemy 
was tired of his continual failures, and would now wait 
inactive until reinforcements reached him. 

One afternoon, about a week after the flooding of the 
camp, a negro was seen running up the gully. Shots 
rang out in the distance, and far down the gully appeared 
a band of Elbel’s men, who seemed to have relinquished 
the pursuit of the runner on coming within sight of the 
fort. The man scampered up to the hole in the stockade. 
He was unarmed save for the universal dagger. He 
cried out to be admitted; he had a message for the In- 
glesa; and Jack ordered him to be hauled up through the 
aperture. 

^‘Me nearly lib for dead,” he said, panting, ‘‘me run 
too fast.” 

“Well, who are you, and what do you want?” 

“Me Lofembi, sah. Me boy massa him uncle.” 

“What!” 

“Yes, sah; me Martindale boy.” 

“Where is he?” cried Jack, feeling himself go pale 
with excitement at the sudden news. 

“He long long in forest, sah. Come up ribber in boat ; 

258 


A MESSAGE AND A MEETING 


one man say young massa shut up in Ilombekabasi ; old 
massa get out of boat, hide in forest so long for young 
massa to know. He plenty sick at Boma, sah; nearly 
gone dead. Fust small small better, ah! lib for go sick 
all same; talk small small, sah; no make head straight. 
He try write; no fit to hold black stick; he fit to go 
sleep.’’ 

“Good heavens, Barney I Poor old uncle I” 

“Sure, the man may be a liar, sorr,” said Barney. 

Jack gave the man a keen glance. 

“My uncle tried to write, you say. What did he try 
to write?” 

'' Bonk anda to massa ; oh yes ! He want to say he come ; 
he want know what he fit to do. No want see bad man ; 
no; want to come to Ilombekabasi. Plenty hard job, 
’cos bad man dah.” He pointed in the direction of 
Elbel’s camp. 

“If he is so very sick, how did he come from the 
river into the forest?” 

“Four five men carry him, sah. Plenty big lump, oh 
yes.’' 

“Why did he send you? Where’s Nando?” 

“Nando lib for sick at Leo ; no fit to come ; him plenty 
sick, oh yes. Me Lofembi ; me come, do talk for massa. 
Massa gib fing to show young massa, here he am.” 

He produced a gold scarf-ring and handed it to Jack. 

“This is my uncle’s, sure enough, Barney. It’s gen- 
uine. What on earth can we do? Poor old uncle! In 
his last note he said he was recovering; he must have 
had a relapse. How can we get him into the fort? We 
must bring him in somehow. It’s awful to think of him 
lying ill in the forest without any one to look after him ; 
and I am cooped up here.” 

“Send Samba to fetch him, sorr.” 

259 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“I can’t, Barney,” said Jack after a moment’s thought. 
“Samba goes alone safely, but I simply can’t trust him 
to lead a party in, especially as uncle seems to be too 
bad to move. I can’t see any way out of it. If I took 
some men out myself and made a dash for it, the enemy 
would be on our track, and we should have to fight our 
way in against the whole lot of them. Impossible ; they 
outnumber us so greatly.” 

Barney was sympathetic, but unable to offer a sugges- 
tion. Bidding him keep an eye on Lofembi, Jack went 
back to his hut to think the matter out by himself. He 
was torn with anxiety. An unlucky chance might at any 
moment reveal his uncle’s whereabouts, and he knew 
what mercy Mr. Martindale might expect if he fell into 
the hands of Elbel. Something must be done ; yet what ? 
A dozen plans occurred to him, only to be rejected. 

One thing was clear ; whatever was done must be done 
either by Barney or himself. Mr. Martindale being in- 
capacitated, another white man must lead his party, for 
the natives, unless properly led, might be seized with 
panic at the slightest check, and bolt. 

Barney he could not send. There was no finesse about 
him; he was a good fighter, with any amount of pluck, 
but the very antithesis of a scout. Jack felt that he must 
go himself if his uncle was to have the best chance of 
getting in. There was no other course that offered the 
same prospect of success. 

What were his chances ? His sortie against the 
enemy’s camp had been a brilliant success. Since then 
Elbel had been practically on the defensive. He was 
afraid of wasting ammunition; afraid also of leaving 
any small body unsupported by his main force. During 
the past week Jack’s scouts had reported night after 
night that no pickets had been posted as formerly around 
the fort, so that except on the south, where Elbel’s camp 

260 


A MESSAGE AND A MEETING 

was, the neighborhood was open. He could thus easily 
steal out at the gate in the northern wall under cover of 
darkness, and by making a wide detour ought to be able 
to bring Mr. Martindale and his party back in safety. 

Yet he had qualms. Ought he in any case to leave the 
fort? Supposing he failed, what would happen to the 
hundreds of people who depended on him? Driven by 
force of circumstances into a life-and-death struggle with 
Elbel’s Company, he had not ventured to look forward 
to its ultimate issue. The duty of the momeilt seemed to 
be to hold on, to keep the poor negroes out of the clutches 
of their oppressors, and leave the end with God. Could 
he trust Barney to continue his work if he should be 
removed? Ought he to think of it? Thus he pondered 
and puzzled, the arguments for and against chasing one 
another in a circle through his mind. 

He had reached no conclusion when Barney came to 
the hut. The good fellow seemed a little uncomfortable ; 
he stood hesitating at the entrance, his readiness of 
speech having apparently deserted him. 

''Barney, Tm the most miserable fellow alive,” said 
Jack, looking up. 

"All but wan, sorr; all but wan. ^Tis the master who 
is more miserable than you or me, sorr. Think uv it; 
alone in the forest, wid none but black idjuts to wait 
upon 'im. I’ve been thinking mighty hard, sorr, and the 
end uv it is this : ’tis you that must go, sorr. Sure I can 
hold the fort while you are gone.” 

"But what if I never come back, Barney?” 

" Twould be a desp’rate hard case, sorr. But what 
thin ? I’m an Irishman, and, bedad ! ’twas for hard cases 
Irishmen was born. Niver a fear but I’d stick to it, 
sorr. We’ve beaten the spalpeens all along. And if the 
captain goes, sorr, sure the liftinant takes his place and 
does his best to fill it dacently. What would have hap- 

261 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


pened if ye had got knocked on the head in that sortie 
uv yours? Do ye think Barney O’Dowd would have 
hung out a white rag and surrendered? Sorrow a bit! 
I’d have nailed my colors to the mast, speakin’ by the 
card, and dared the ruffi’ns to come and take ’em.” 

^‘You’re a brick, Barney I” cried Jack, springing up and 
gripping him by the hand. ‘T’ll go! I’ll take Samba, 
this very night, and bring dear old uncle in.” 

“That’s right, sorr. And we’ll nurse him back to 
health and strength, and make him colonel uv the reg’- 
mint.” 

“Call out those men who captured Elbel’s camp with 
me and place them at the gate to make a dash if they 
hear firing. And meanwhile, you man the wall and hold 
yourself ready to cover our entry. And, Barney, if I’m 
caught and uncle doesn’t come in, hold the fort as long 
as you can. Don’t make sorties; simply sit tight. The 
rainy season will be on us soon, Imbono said, and Elbel’s 
camp is so badly placed that when the rains come he 
will be swamped. He may then get tired of the siege 
and draw off. If he does, I should arrange with the two 
chiefs for a trek into the forest. But if Elbel still presses 
the siege and food begins to run short — it won’t last for 
ever, you know — you had better choose a dark night and 
make a dash out to the northeast. If you go quickly, 
you’ll get a good many hours’ start before Elbel realizes 
what has happened; and when once in the forest you 
may shake off pursuit. Our rifles will form a rear 
guard.” 

“I’ll do all that same, sorr. But I hope it will not be 
me fate to do it all. I’d sooner be liftinant foriver, 
sorr.” 

Shortly after nightfall. Jack, Samba, and Lofembi, the 
messenger, made their exit by the hole in the wall. Jack' ' 
had wished to follow his original intention and leave by 

262 


A MESSAGE AND A MEETING 


the northern gate; but Lofembi earnestly begged him 
not to do this, saying that he would not be able to find 
the way if he did not go out by the same gate that he 
had entered. At the moment of departure Barney 
gripped Jack’s hand. 

^‘The blessed angels go wid ye, sorr, and bring poor 
old master back in safety.” 

“Good-by, Barney. Hope for the best, and remem- 
ber — hold the fort.” 

It was slow work moving across the broken, hilly coun- 
try by night; but Lofembi had previously pointed out to 
Samba the general direction in which they had to go, 
and the boy was able to keep a fairly straight course. 
They had to strike, said Lofembi, a path through the 
forest following the course of the sun. Mr. Martindale’s 
camp was pitched close to the path, not far from where 
two large trees had fallen across it. In about an hour 
they came to the outskirts of the forest in that direction ; 
the course being in the main the same as that taken by 
Jack some weeks previously on his buffalo hunt, but 
leaving the open country somewhat earlier. So far there 
had been no sign of the enemy. 

Progress was even slower in the forest itself. More 
than once Lofembi halted in doubt; then, after a whis- 
pered colloquy with Samba, he started again, guiding 
himself by the stars seen through the tree-tops. Save 
for these whispered conversations, not a word was 
spoken. Jack was too much absorbed in his mission, too 
anxious about his uncle, to have any inclination to talk, 
even if the risk of coming upon a scout of Elbel’s had 
not been present to his mind. 

At length the three came upon the narrow track Lo- 
fembi had been seeking. Here they went in Indian file, 
the guide leading. Jack coming next, then Samba. The 
path was so narrow and so beset by obstructions that 

263 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


walking was a toil. Sometimes Lofembi swerved to one 
side or the other to avoid a prickly bush ; sometimes they 
had to clamber over a fallen tree; more often the path 
wound round the obstacle. It seemed to Jack many 
hours since they started; in reality it was scarcely more 
than three before they came upon the two fallen trees. 
Lofembi stopped. 

“Small small now, massa,” he whispered. 

He gave a long, low-pitched call. From the blackness 
on the left came a similar call in reply. The guide 
moved forward, plunging boldly along a narrow path — 
more narrow even than that by which they had reached 
this spot — in the direction of the sound. Jack was about 
to follow him when Samba touched him on the arm. 

“Samba go first,'’ said the boy. 

“No, no,” said Jack kindly. “We are all right; this 
is my place. Samba.” 

His heart beat faster under the stress of his emotion 
as he followed Lofembi through the tangled under- 
growth. How would he find his uncle? Was he very 
ill? Surely, surely, he was not in danger — he would not 
die! Beads of sweat broke out upon Jack’s brow as the 
terrible possibility occurred to him. He went on almost 
blindly. Three minutes’ groping in the darkness brought 
them to a natural clearing, in which, by the dim light 
of the stars. Jack saw a couple of tents, and, some little 
distance from them, what appeared to be a number of 
roughly-made grass huts. 

“Dis way, massa,” said Lofembi, touching Jack on the 
arm. 

“Which one?” said Jack in a low tone. 

“Dat one,” replied Lofembi, pointing to the nearest 
of the huts. 

He stepped forward into the clearing. At the same 
moment a score of dusky forms rose and closed in stcalth- 

s 64 


A MESSAGE AND A MEETING 


ily from the undergrowth around. With a little cry 
Samba plucked Jack by the sleeve. But almost uncon- 
sciously he shook off the detaining hand, so full of anx- 
iety was he. His uncle must be very ill, or he would be 
standing by the tent to welcome him. He sprang for- 
ward, stopped, and raised the flap of the tent. By the 
light of a small oil lamp swinging from the top he saw 
a form stretched upon a camp bed. 

“Uncle! uncle!” he cried, falling on his knees by the 
side of the prostrate figure. 

A low murmur answered him. At the same moment 
he heard a sighing groan as it were from the entrance 
to the hut, and the sound of a heavy fall. Then the 
forest glade rang with fierce shouts and the crack of a 
rifle. Jack rose to his feet, confused by this sudden 
turmoil coming when his nerves were overstrung. As 
he half turned, a figure came out of the darkness towards 
him. 

“Good efening, Mr. Shalloner,” said a smooth voice. 

Jack started back. 

“Yes, it is me; Guillaume Elbel, bien 


entendu r 


CHAPTER XXIII 


ELBEL SQUARES ACCOUNTS 

Jack saw through it all now. Elbel had captured his 
uncle, and used him to decoy from the fort the enemy 
whom fair fighting and open manceuvers had failed to 
dislodge. He could have shot the Belgian with his rifle 
where he stood, but saw in a flash how vain the action 
would be. Outside was a horde of savage natives, who 
would instantly wreak vengeance on the white man. Mr. 
Martindale was too weak to resist, and what he would 
suffer at their hands was too horrible to be thought of. 

When Elbel had spoken. Jack turned once more to his 
uncle, and, kneeling down by his bedside, clasped his 
hand. His pressure was returned but feebly. Mr. Mar- 
tindale’s weakness, coupled with his distress at Jack’s 
capture, rendered him unable to speak. 

'T beg you to listen to me,” said Elbel j “I have a war- 
rant for the arrest of Chon Martindale, Chon Shalloner, 
and a third man, whose name I do not know, on a charge 
dat dey incite de natives to rebel against de Congo Free 
State. I have two of the dree; dat is veil. It vill be 
for your advantage, to-morrow, to send a written order 
to de third man to ’render dat fort on de hill. It will be 
for your advantage at de trial. If de fort resist longer, 
and cause blood to spill, it vill be so much de vorse for 
you ven you appear before de court in Boma.” 

“Where is your warrant, Mr. Elbel?” asked Jack. 

“Ah ! I have it not viz me ; of course, it is in my camp.” 

266 


ELBEL SQUARES ACCOUNTS 


'T suppose you are going to take us there? You can 
show it to me when we get there.” 

“No, you mistake. I vill not take you to my camp. 
I vill send you both at once to Boma, vare you vill be 
tried.” 

“But my uncle is not in a condition to travel, you know 
that.” 

“Bah ! He was in condition to travel here ; veil, he 
is in condition to travel back.” 

“But that is preposterous, Mr. Elbel. Are you abso- 
lutely inhuman? I find my uncle so ill that he can not 
even speak to me. God knows how much his illness is 
due to you or your friends. At least you will allow him 
to remain until I can give him some little attention — 
until he regains a little strength. To do anything else 
will be nothing less than murder.” 

“Dat is not my affair,” said Elbel with a shrug. “It 
is instructed me to send you to Boma. To Boma there- 
fore must you go, and at once.” Then, as a thought 
struck him, he added : “Though truly I will vait vun day, 
two days, perhaps, if you give command to de man in de 
fort to Tender himself.” 

“Never!” came in a fierce whisper from the bed. Mr. 
Martindale had gathered his little strength for Jack’s 
sake. “Never ! We will make no terms with you. What 
my nephew has done he has done merely in self-defense 
against the acts, the illegal acts, of you and your free- 
booters. I am an American citizen; he is a British sub- 
ject; as you, yes, and your Free State, will find to your 
cost.” 

He spoke in feeble gasps, yet with an energy that 
spoke of an unconquerable spirit. The exertion exhausted 
him, and he fell back on the bed from which he had half 
risen. 

“Bah! Fine words!” said Elbel. “VeF fine words, 
267 


fighting on the CONGO 


Monsieur. You say you are American — you dink dat 
frighten me! Vy, I laugh. Vat good is de American 
or de English in de Congo Free State? Ve mock of dem. 
We have our own vays to deal viz such canaille. You 
will not send order to de fort ? Ver’ well ; I do vizout.” 

“Your warrant won’t hold in any case. No one can 
order the arrest of a man unnamed.” 

“You zink so? Ver’ veil, it does not matter. You 
vill have opportunity to zink about my vords as you 
promenade yourself to Boma. So I vish you bon soir. 
To attempt to escape, I tell you, it is impossible. You 
see dat? You hab revolver, Mr. Shalloner. Be so kind 
to gif me dat.” 

Jack hesitated. But he saw that resistance was use- 
less, and handed over the weapon. 

“Banks. In de morning you vill begin your prome- 
nade to Boma. Au revoir. Messieurs; an revoir, Mon- 
sieur Chon Shalloner!” 

He left the tent. The interview had been too much 
for Mr. Martindale. He lay half unconscious, and was 
scarcely roused when Elbel, in a couple of minutes, re- 
turned in a towering rage. 

“You, Chon Shalloner,” he shouted. “You make de 
natives to rebel, and more, you make dem to do murder. 
Dat man, who I sent to de fort, he lie now outside, a 
dead man. Some vun dat come viz you he stab him in 
de back. You English hombog, I teach you. Dey shall 
know of dis in Boma.” 

Jack did not condescend to answer him, and Elbel 
flung out of the tent. If his messenger was dead, he had 
paid the penalty of his treachery; Jack could only pity the 
poor wretch for meeting with such an end in such a ser- 
vice. No doubt it was Samba’s doing; Jack remembered 
now the groan and the fall outside. Had Samba es- 
caped? He was anxious on the boy’s behalf, but it was 

268 


ELBEL SQUARES ACCOUNTS 


impossible to ascertain what had happened to him. From 
Elbel’s manner and words he inferred that Samba was 
safe. And as for Elbehs indignation at the deed, Jack 
was not impressed by it. When he thought of the mur- 
ders and maiming this man was answerable for, he 
could find no blame for the faithful boy who had pun- 
ished, as his instincts taught him, the spy who had be- 
trayed his master. 

Jack was left alone with his uncle. He looked vainly 
round the tent for a restorative — a drug — a flask of 
brandy, even a cup of water. There was nothing. He 
bent over the still form, and touching the brow gently, 
felt it burning with the heat of fever. He knew that his 
uncle was accustomed to keep a small vial of quinine 
pills in his waistcoat pocket, and searching for that he 
found it and persuaded the sick man to swallow a little 
of the medicine. Then he sat on the foot of the bed, 
not knowing what to do. 

How fully his forebodings had been justified ! It had 
been a mistake to leave the fort. And yet he could not 
rue it, for otherwise he might never have seen his uncle 
again. He looked at the face with the half-closed eyes; 
how thin it was ! how pale ! The ruddy hue, the rounded 
shape of health was gone ; where was that bright, twink- 
ling eye that looked so shrewdly out from beneath a 
shaggy brow? What sufferings he must have under- 
gone! At that moment Jack looked back over the past 
months to the day when he so light-heartedly bade his 
uncle good-by, and so cheerfully accepted the charge 
laid upon him. How he wished they had never been 
parted ! 

And then another thought drove out his regret. But 
for this parting Ilombekabasi would never have been, 
and several hundreds of poor black people might have 
been tortured, mutilated, done to death, in the name of 

269 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


law. Could he have done otherwise than he had done? 
Had Providence, moving in mysterious ways, arranged 
all this — that one should sutler for the sake of many? 
He did not know ; he could not think ; his mind seemed to 
be wrapped in a cloud of mist, through which he saw 
nothing but the present fact — that his uncle lay before 
him, sick, perhaps unto death. 

By and by a negro entered, bearing food and palm 
wine. Mr. Martindale could not eat, but the wine re- 
vived him. 

“Jack, old boy!’’ 

Jack knelt by the bedside, clasping his uncle’s hand. 

“Jack, I must tell you what happened.” 

“Don’t, Uncle; you will distress yourself.” 

“No, I shall do myself no harm. If you will be pa- 
tient — for I shall be slow — a little at a time. Jack. You 
must know. I’ve got pretty near to the end of my 
tether, old boy. I shan’t live to do anything for these 
poor niggers, but you will — you will. Jack. And I want 
you to vow here, at this moment, to do what I must 
leave undone — fight the Congo State, Jack; fight Leo- 
pold, with your hands, your tongue, your pen, here, in 
Europe, in America; fight him in the name of humanity 
and of God. Promise me that. Jack, so that if I do not 
live till the morning, I shall at least die happy.” 

“God helping me, Uncle, I will.” 

Mr. Martindale pressed his hand. For some time 
there was silence; then the older man began again. 

“I must try to speak calmly, my boy. I have so little 
strength ; but it is hard. I told you in my first letter of 
what I had learned about the ways of the Congo State. 
You wondered, I dare- say, why I never mentioned them 
again. You will understand why. When I got to Boma, 
I reported to the governor-general, in a written memo- 
rial, the incidents that occurred as we went uo the river 

270 


ELBEL SQUARES ACCOUNTS 


—the altercation with Elbel, the attempt on our canoes, 
the night attack on our camp, frustrated by Samba. 
(I can’t tell you how glad I was. Jack, when you told 
me the boy had returned to you.) I forestalled the prob- 
able answer that Elbel had nothing to do with those at- 
tempts by pointing out that the negroes Samba saw were 
fully armed, and must have been under a white man’s 
control. Even then it was illegal, for I found that men 
in Elbel’s position, representing Concessions, are not 
entitled to take more than five riflemen as escort beyond 
the limits of their trading factories. In my memorial 
I said that, after these attacks on me, I should be forced 
in self-defense to arm a certain number of my followers, 
and I disclaimed responsibility for the consequences. I 
also reported the scene of desolation at Banonga, and 
the story I had heard from Samba’s lips; and called 
upon the governor-general to take instant action in the 
matter.” 

Jack moistened his uncle’s lips, and he continued: 

“I got an acknowledgment, polite enough, even pleas- 
ant, promising that these matters should be inquired into. 
The governor-general added that, the possession of fire- 
arms and the arming of natives being prohibited by law, 
I should become liable to heavy penalties and imprison- 
ment if the law was broken. I had luckily already sent 
you the rifles and ammunition; though had I not done 
so, I could easily have bribed an official to give me a per- 
mit to carry arms; it would have cost me five hundred 
francs for the license, and as much as I chose for the 
bribe. 

“For a week I heard no more. I was deceived by the 
politeness of the governor-general’s letter into believing 
that I was perfectly safe, and free to do in this Free State 
what I had come to do. I set about my business, and, 
as I told you, bought a little machinery, from a fellow 
named Schwab, agent for a Dusseldorf firm. But I 

271 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


was a marked man. One day an officer came and asked 
me to show my patent. I did so. The man complained 
that it was not properly filled up; my name was spelled 
with an ‘e’ instead of an h’ — Martendale! I laughed at 
him and he went away in a huff. Next day another fel- 
low came and said that my patent was worthless. Since 
it had been granted, a new arrangement had been en- 
tered into between the Concession and the State, and all 
the mineral rights in the district reverted to the State. 
I laughed at that ; a patent granted by the Concession and 
authorized by the State could not be revoked ; it had five 
years to run, and I meant to stick to it. They wanted to 
bluff me — an American! — out of it. 

“But things began to go badly with me. I was prac- 
tically boycotted, Jack. None of the storekeepers would 
supply me with anything I wanted. One of them frankly 
told me that to do so was as much as his life was worth. 
I did not believe him at first. But I found it was only 
too true. A storekeeper in Boma I heard of — a British 
subject. Jack, from the Gold Coast — had a part in show- 
ing up the rascality of some legal proceedings that had 
recently taken place. The officials gave the word. He 
was boycotted ; his trade dwindled ; he became bankrupt ; 
one of his sons was driven mad by the persecution he 
suffered; and his troubles and worries so preyed on the 
old man’s mind that he took his own life. 

“Then I fell ill. It was a near touch. Jack. Only 
the devotion of a fellow-countryman— a fine fellow from 
Milwaukee — saved my life. Remember his name, Jack; 
Theodore Canrehan; if you ever meet him, and can do 
him a good turn, do it for my sake. When I got on my 
feet again, I was amazed to find the tune changed. Ev- 
erybody was as sweet as butter. The officers came and 
apologized to me ; they regretted the unfortunate misun- 
derstandings that had arisen; they would do all in their 

272 


ELBEL SQUARES ACCOUNTS 


power to forward my business. I arranged for the des- 
patch of the machinery I had ordered from Europe, and 
started to return. I couldn’t make out what had made 
them suddenly so attentive; thought it was because I 
was an American, and they had some respect for the 
Stars and Stripes, after all. Canrehan told me that since 
I sailed a strong feeling had been growing in America 
with regard to the Congo question; and I flattered my- 
self that the State authorities weren’t anxious to add 
fuel to the flames by provoking a really serious grievance 
in which an American was concerned. But it was all 
a trap. Jack — all a trap. I saw it too late — too late.” 

Hitherto Mr. Martindale had spoken slowly and 
calmly, husbanding his strength. But at this point his 
feelings overcame him. 

‘^Don’t talk any more now. Uncle,” said Jack, fearing 
that the exertion would be too much for him. “Tell me 
the rest another time. Try to sleep. I will watch over 
you. Thank God, I shall be with you in the journey to 
Boma. You’ll pull through even now, and we shall be 
able to fight together.” 

Mr. Martindale had already fallen into a doze. Jack 
did his best to make his bed more comfortable, and 
watched him through the night, pacing round the tent 
for hours at a time to keep himself awake. From time 
to time his thoughts went back to the fort. What was 
Barney doing? What would he do when morning came 
and yet the absent had not returned? What would be 
the fate of the poor people committed to his charge? At 
present all was dark to Jack. It seemed that he and all 
connected with him were now in the fell grip of the 
Congo State. 

As soon as it was light Elbel came into the tent. 

“I hope you had good night,” he said with a grin. 
“You vill have breakfast, den you vill begin your prome- 


273 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


nade. Twenty-five Askari vill escort you. You vill go 
to de river vere Mr. Martindale left his canoes; dey are 
still dere. Ah ! he did hide dem, but vat good ? You vill 
go on canoes till you come to de falls; dere you vill for 
a time voyage overland. By and by you come to Stan- 
leyville ; dere you find steamer ; de State officers vill have 
care of you de rest of de vay to Boma. You understan’ ?” 

‘T warn you, Mr. Elbel, that I shall hold you respon- 
sible for my uncle’s safety down the river. You see for 
yourself he is not fit to travel. I shall take the earliest 
opportunity of informing the American government of 
vour actions — your persecution, for it is no less.” 

'^Dat is all right,” returned Elbel, grinning again. “De 
courts at Boma vill give immediate attention. De judges 
dey are excellent. Now, still vunce before you go, write 
de order to de white man in your fort to ’render him- 
self. It vill profit you.” 

“Never !” said Jack. “Go and execute your warrant.” 

“VeF veil, ver’ veil. It matters noding. In a half 
hour de Askari vill be here. You be ready.” 

Jack managed to get his uncle to eat a little food. He 
seemed somewhat stronger and less feverish than on the 
preceding evening. At seven o’clock the twenty-five sol- 
diers appeared, accompanied by eight men as carriers. 
Mr. Martindale recognized these as belonging to the party 
he had brought up the river ; the rest of his men, he sup- 
posed, had been impressed by Elbel for service in his 
camp. It being obvious that the sick man was unable to 
walk, a litter had been constructed for him. He was 
placed on this. Four men were told off to carry it, the 
other four bearing food sufficient to last the whole party 
until they reached the canoes. 

When the party was ready to start, Elbel sauntered 
up, his hands behind his back, and, approaching Jack, 
said, with a smile: 


274 


ELBEL SQUARES ACCOUNTS 


‘‘Now, Mr. Shalloner, before ve part I have a little 
vat you call reckoning viz you. You strike me vunce, 
twice, viz your feest. Dat is de English vay — de boxe, 
hein?” Elbel showed his teeth. “On de Congo ve have 
anoder vay — de chicotte. Vun does not soil vun’s hands. 

Sor 

He took from behind his back a rhinoceros-hide whip, 
and, cutting short so as to avoid the Askari close beside 
Jack, dealt him two cuts with his utmost strength. Jack 
clenched his teeth to stifle a cry, as the edges of the 
thong cut through his thin clothes. 

“Dere ! Now are ve quits 

As he spoke. Jack, blazing with anger and mortifica- 
tion, made a fierce spring at him. But Elbel was ready ; 
he jumped nimbly backwards, while half a dozen Askari 
rushed between them and pinioned Jack’s arms. 

Honor was satisfied. Elbel nodded to the Askari in 
charge: the party might now proceed. 

Jack had wondered whether he was to be pinioned; 
but the prestige of the white man, not any considera- 
tion for his feelings, had prevented Elbel from going to 
such extremes. As he stood behind his uncle’s litter, 
two Askari, with loaded rifles, placed themselves one 
on each side of him. 

“You see,” said Elbel, at the moment of departure, 
“if you try to escape you vill be shot. I vish you agree- 
able promenade.” 


275 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A SUDDEN CHARGE 

The party set off. They marched all day, with brief 
intervals for food and rest. Jack was only allowed to 
speak to his uncle during these pauses. The sick man lay 
inert, with closed eyes, protected from the heat by a light 
covering of grass, which his bearers made and fixed 
above his litter. Jack watched him anxiously. He 
seemed no worse when they arrived at the river just be- 
fore sunset. Mr. Martindale had brought up four ca- 
noes; two of these had already been appropriated by 
Elbel and conveyed up the river ; the other two remained. 
They passed the night on the canoes, and in the small 
hours, when the natives were asleep, Mr. Martindale 
insisted on continuing the story broken off the night 
before. 

“Better now, dear boy,” he said, when Jack implored 
hiri to wait until he was stronger. ‘T shall never see 
Boma ; Elbel knows that. He knows that in this climate 
a sick man can not survive a journey of nearly two thou- 
sand miles. I want you to understand clearly before I 
go what these officials are doing. They call it the Free 
State!— free! No one is free but the officials! The 
natives, poor wretches! are not free. Never, when sla- 
very was an institution, were these slaves in such abject 
misery as these slaves of the Congo. Why, they made 
a great to-do about slavery in my country fifty years 
ago, and some of the pictures in Uncle Tom’s Cabin were 
lurid enough. But the American slave’s life was Para- 

276 


A SUDDEN CHARGE 


dise compared with this hell upon earth. Trade on the 
Congo was to be free. Is there any such freedom ? Look 
at my case. They give me a patent to work minerals; 
they let me make my prospecting trip; then, when I 
have located the gold and ordered my machinery, they 
revoke my patent. I make the loaf, they eat it. Oh! 
it was all planned from the beginning. We have been 
fooled right through, Jack.'^ 

“But what of their courts. Uncle? Surely there is 
some redress for injustice.'^ 

“Their courts ! They are all of a piece, Jack. The State 
grants a concession to a trading company. Half the time 
the State is the trading company; it takes up the larger 
portion of the shares. The Congo Free State is nothing 
but a big commercial speculation, and the courts dare 
not do anything that conflicts with its interests. Men 
come here, Belgians, Romans, Italians, good fellows, 
some honest, well-meaning; but they haven't been here 
long before they have to swim with the current, wink at 
abuses, or throw up their careers. One poor fellow, a 
district judges ventured to protest against an illegal sen- 
tence passed by a court-martial; he was broken, and 
hounded out of the country. In a sense he was lucky, 
for it is easier for such a man to get into this country 
than to get out of it — alive. A man who does justice 
and loves righteousness has no place in the Congo Free 
State. 

“You see now why they let me go. They let me make 
what arrangements I pleased; engage a large party, buy 
a large quantity of stores ; well knowing that at any mo- 
ment of my journey they could arrest me and plunder 
my goods. And they knew of your doings up here, be 
sure of that. They intended to let me get into the neigh- 
borhood of your fort and use me to decoy you out. 
They've done it. Oh ! it was all planned in Boma. 

277 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Neither you nor I shall ever reach Boma if Elbel and the 
officials have their way. Elbel’s suggestion of delaying 
so that we could get Barney to surrender the fort was 
all a part of the trick; it would make no difference in 
our treatment, and it would be the death-warrant of those 
poor negroes. Jack, I approve of all that you have done 
— approve with all my heart. I am proud of you, dear 
boy. What does it matter that IVe lost my money, and 
my gold mine, and very likely my life, too ! I am thank- 
ful to Almighty God that we came to this country, glad 
that He has put it into our power to do some little good. 
I wouldn’t undo any of it; I am proud that one of my 
blood has been called to this good work. Jack, Provi- 
dence has made us responsible for the poor negroes who 
have trusted their lives to us. Do you remember I said 
at Banonga that I wasn’t a philanthropist and wasn’t set 
on starting a crusade ? I spoke lightly, my boy. I would 
say now that if God spared my life I would spend all 
my strength and all my energy in a nobler work than ever 
medieval Crusader undertook. I shall not live to do it; 
but I leave it to you. Were this my last bi^ath I would 
say, help the negroes of the Congo, fight the corrupt 
government that enriches itself on their blood; go to 
the fountain-head and expose the hypocrisy of King Leo- 
pold.” 

“He may not know of it. Uncle. So far away he can 
not check and control all the actions of his agents.” 

“Not know of it? How can he help knowing of it? 
Are not these things happening every day? And it is 
his business to know of it. Suppose I had a factory in 
the United States and it was proved that while I was 
coining millions my hands were dying of overwork, or 
of insanitary buildings, or getting wages insufficient to 
keep them decently clothed and fed ; wouldn’t there be 
an outcry? Wouldn’t the law step in, or, if the law failed, 

278 


A SUDDEN CHARGE 


public opinion? Where does Leopold get his dollars 
from ? Who pays for the estates he is buying, the palace 
he is building, the fine public works he is presenting to 
Belgium? It is these poor black people. He is drain- 
ing the life-blood out of the country he vowed before 
Almighty God to rule justly and administer wisely for 
the good of the people ; and the cries and groans of these 
negroes, men like himself, are rising to Heaven, terrible 
witnesses of his broken vows, his callousness, his selfish 
apathy. Oh ! I grant him good intentions to begin with. 
Twenty years ago he did not foresee all this ; no man is 
a villain all at once. But it might have been foreseen. 
He was king of a few hundred miles of country; with a 
stroke of the pen he became sovereign of a State as big 
as Europe; and if a man has the passion for getting, 
unlimited opportunities of doing so will bring him to 
any villainy unless he has the grace of God in him.’’ 

Jack was deeply moved by his uncle’s earnestness. At 
the same time he was concerned to see the exhaustion 
that followed his passionate speech. He gave him a lit- 
tle wine, imploring him to spare himself. 

‘‘Don’t trouble, dear boy,” said Mr. Martindale, with 
a smile. “The fire is burning out; what does it matter 
if it burns a little more quickly? But I won’t distress 
you ; you will think of my words when I am gone.” 

In the morning the river journey was begun. It con- 
tinued for several days, until with their arrival at the 
falls, progress by water was interrupted, and a long port- 
ge had to be made. 

It was just at this point that they met a party of Askari 
coming in the other direction. As soon as they came 
in sight the leader of Jack’s escort said: 

“0 ets war " 


^Are you awake ? (The morning greeting.) 

279 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


**0!” replied the leader of the approaching band. 

‘Where are you going 

“To the camp of Elobela/' 

“What have you got in those bundles?” 

“Cartridges for Elobela’s guns.” 

'‘Bolotsi 0! He will be glad of them. He has very 
few left.” 

“Has he killed many people?” 

“No. But Lokolobolo captured nearly all his cart- 
ridges.” 

‘'Mongo! Who is Lokolobolo ?” 

“Here he is! An Inglesa who has built a fort and 
fights Elobela. But we have got him at last, and he goes 
with an old Inglesa to Boma. Oh ! he will fight no more.” 
“0 kend^or 
“O!” 

During the river journey Mr. Martindale had grown 
steadily weaker. He fought hard against his illness; 
he had a new motive for desiring life; and Jack, observ- 
ing his occasional rallies, hoped still that he would pull 
through. But he was so weak when lifted from the 
canoe that he fainted, and Jack feared that he would not 
survive the day. He rallied again, and once more Jack 
had a gleam of hope. 

The horrors of that overland march will haunt Jack’s 
memory till he dies. For some time the Askari had been 
ill-using the carriers. The greater part of the stores 
which Mr. Martindale had taken up the river had been 
appropriated by Elbel, and the food left in the canoes 
was not sufficient for full meals for the whole party. 
It was the carriers who went short. They had to bear 
the burdens, to make frequent journeys to and fro, up 
and down the steep river-bank, while the Askari looked 
on and had the best of the food. When the portage was 
begun, one of the canoes w^s added to their load. The 

280 


A SUDDEN CHARGE 


other was left hidden in the bush to be fetched later. 
Weak from lack of proper nourishment, they could go 
but slowly, and Jack’s blood boiled as he saw them quiver, 
heard them shriek under the merciless chicotte. Before 
the first day was ended, two of the men fell, worn out 
with hunger and fatigue. Jack heard shots behind him, 
and saw that the wretched men had been put out of their 
misery. On the second day another man succumbed; 
^what little life was left in him was beaten out with the 
clubbed rifles of the Askari. Three men ran away dur- 
ing the night, preferring the perils of the forest to the 
certain fate that awaited them at the hands of their fel- 
low men. Only two carriers were now left, and since 
these were useless they were shot in cold blood. Jack’s 
heart was like a stone within him. These atrocities re- 
called the worst horrors of the old Arab slave-trading 
days ; and he was unable to lift a hand to oppose them. 
If he had been the only white man with the party, he felt 
that he would have risked anything in an effort to save 
the poor wretches ; but while his uncle still lived he could 
do nothing that might involve his own death. 

The bearers being all gone, the Askari had to take 
turns themselves in carrying the canoe, the remainder of 
their provisions and Mr. Martindale’s litter. This neces- 
sity did not improve their temper or their manners, and 
the litter-bearers went so carelessly over the rough 
ground that Jack was constrained to protest. He im- 
plored, he threatened, feeling that the only chance for. 
his uncle was to make more frequent halts; the fatigue 
of constant traveling would certainly kill him. But 
the Askari roughly replied that they had orders to con- 
tinue their journey without delay, and the march was re- 
sumed. After his protest Jack was forced to walk at a 
distance from the litter, and even when the caravan 
halted for food he was not allowed to attend his uncle. 

281 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Sick at heart he plodded on, torn by his anxieties, yet 
still nourishing a hope that when they arrived at a sta- 
tion where a doctor might be found, and whence the 
journey would be continued by steamer, all might yet 
be well. 

But one evening, when the halt was made, he heard his 
uncle faintly - calling. The sound of his voice struck a 
chill through him. In desperation, snatching a rifle from 
the guard next him, he threatened to shoot any one who 
tried to keep him from the dying man. 

‘Tt’s all up with me, old boy,” said Mr. Martindale 
feebly, when Jack knelt by his litter. ‘‘Elbel is having 
his way. I shan’t see another morning.” 

Jack gripped his hands; they were chill and clammy. 
A lump came into his throat; he could not speak the 
yearning affection that filled his heart. 

“Bend down. Jack; I’m afraid I can not make you 
hear. Remember — remember what I have said, it is my 
bequest to you— the cause of the Congo natives. Do 
what you can for them. Fight! It is called the Free 
State; fight to make it free. I can not see the future; 
all is dark; I dread what may await you in Boma. But 
buck up, dear fellow. Barney — remember him. Go to 
the British consul, tell him all. Your people have gen- 
erous sympathies; wake them up, wake them up! If 
they are roused, all this wrong will come to an end.” 

“I shall do all I can. Uncle,” murmured Jack. 

“Don’t mourn overlong for me. I’ve had a good time. 
And this year the best of all. I wouldn’t lose it. Jack. 
Tell my friends I’m not sorry; I’m glad, glad to have 
seen with mine own eyes something that’s worth doing. 
And I have faith in the future — in my fellow men, in 
God. What is it about wicked doers? ‘They encourage 
themselves in mischief, and commune how they may lay 
snares; they imagine wickedness and practise it. But 

282 


A SUDDEN CHARGE 


God shall suddenly shoot at them with a swift arrow; 
yea, their own tongues shall make them fall.’ How does 
it go on? I cannot remember. ‘The righteous shall re- 
joice — ’ Jack, are you there?” 

“Yes, Uncle, I am here,” replied Jack, tightening his 
clasp. 

“Is it the fifteenth Psalm? ‘He that walketh upright- 
ly’ — I can not remember. Jack — Is that boy Samba bet- 
ter?— Poor little chap! No father and mother — Bar- 
nard said there was gold; why can’t he find it? — No, 
that’s not a nugget, that’s — Only a dog, eh? I’m kind 
o’ set on dogs — ” 

And so he rambled on, muttering incoherently in his 
delirium; and Jack did not stir, but remained cramped 
while the slow hours crawled on; and nocturnal insects 
hummed and frogs croaked, and the leaves faintly rustled 
above him. 

Then as the dawn was creeping up the sky, Mr. Mar- 
tindale opened his eyes. They rested on Jack’s pale, 
drawn face, and the dying man smiled. 

“Buck up!” he whispered. “Remember! ‘Though I 
walk through the valley of the shadow — ’ ” 

And so he died. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A BREAK FOR LIBERTY 

With his own hands Jack dug a grave near the brink 
of the river, and there he laid his uncle to rest. The 
Askari looked on stolidly as he gathered stones from 
below the bank and heaped them to form a low, rude 
cairn. Then he went back with them to their camping- 
place. He could not touch the food they oifered him, 
and when they told him the time was come to march 
he got up silently and moved away mechanically with 
the rest. 

He trudged on among his captors, a prey to utter de- 
jection, conscious of nothing but his irreparable loss. 
Pie saw nothing, heard nothing of what was going on 
around him, walking automatically in a kind of stupor. 
His uncle was dead ! — for the moment the world had for 
him no other fact. By degrees, as his first dazed feeling 
passed away, he recalled little incidents in his past life 
that till then had lain dormant in his memory. He 
remembered the first time he had consciously seen his 
uncle, when he was a child of four, and he was dragged 
in all grubby from the garden, face and hands stained 
with strawberry juice, to see a big man with a red face, 
who laughed at him, and showed him a rough, yellow 
lump that he wore on his watch-chain. He remembered 
the letter when his father died; and that other letter 
when his mother died ; and the first visit to school, when 
shown into the headmaster’s study, the headmaster being 
absent, Mr. Martindale had made friends of the dog and 

284 


A BREAK FOR LIBERTY 


was found by the great man in the act of balancing a 
pen on the animal’s nose. He remembered, too, the de- 
lightful holidays, climbing in Switzerland, roaming in 
Normandy, gondoliering in Venice. Odd things came 
to his recollection, and there was not one of them but 
recalled some trait of character, reminded him of some 
past happiness. 

Then as he walked his grief took a new complexion 
— a longing for vengeance on the miscreant whom he 
regarded as directly responsible for his uncle’s death — 
morally as culpable as if he had with his own hands 
committed the murder. Was this villain to remain un- 
punished? The thought of Elbel induced a new change 
of feeling. What of the natives who for so many months 
looked to him for guidance and leadership? What was 
Barney doing? Had Samba escaped the clutches of his 
enemy and got back to the fort? Was the fort, indeed, 
still there? He remembered his promise to his uncle. 
At the most solemn moment of his life, under the very 
shadow of death, he had vowed to do all in his power 
to help the negroes of the Congo — and here he was, him- 
self a prisoner among soldiers of this iniquitous govern- 
ment, on his way to an unknown fate. 

Thus recalled to actuality, he roused himself and be- 
gan to think. He had no longer his uncle to consider: 
that good man was beyond reach of chicanery and spite. 
Why should he go to Boma? Nothing good awaited him 
there. He would be thrown into prison on arrival — 
supposing he ever arrived — he would be tried, sentenced 
no doubt; at Boma, in such cases, there was none of 
the law’s delays : he might never be heard of again. 
What chance was there of fulfilling his uncle’s wishes 
there? Was not his place at the fort, at Ilombekabasi, 
with Barney and Imbono and Mboyo, the people for and 
with whom he had already toiled and fought? There, 

285 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


at the fort, was tangible good to be done : he felt an over- 
powering impulse to return to his friends. Elbel had 
been worsted; if the resistance could be still further pro- 
longed, surely the Belgian would withdraw, though it 
were only to gather strength for a crushing blow; and 
the interval might be seized to migrate with the whole 
community into the forest or across the frontier. 

But there was the rub. Between him and the fort 
there was a band of well-armed Askari and several days’ 
journey by river and forest. Even if he escaped the 
former, what chance was there of success ? A white man 
was very helpless in these African wilds— easily seen 
and followed, not used to fend for himself in obtain- 
ing the necessaries of life. Even Samba, forest-bred, had 
barely survived the perils of a solitary journey; how 
could a white man expect to fare so well ? 

Yet, so strong was Jack’s longing, he resolved that, 
be the difficulties and dangers what they might, he would 
seize the barest chance of escape that offered itself. 
Anything would be better than to be carried on to Boma, 
with the terrible uncertainty, not merely regarding his 
own ultimate fate at the hands of an unscrupulous offi- 
cialdom and a tainted judicature, but still more as to 
the fate of his friends at Ilombekabasi. 

From that moment his whole mental attitude changed. 
He did not forget his grief: that pitiful scene by the 
river’s brink could never be effaced from his mind and 
heart ; but he 'resolutely set his wits to work to find an 
avenue of escape, and the mere effort brought relief to 
his sorrow. No longer was he inattentive to his sur- 
roundings. Without allowing his guards to suspect 
him, he was keenly on the alert, watching everything. 

It was not until the midday meal that accident be- 
friended him. The Askari came to a village which had 
clearly been for some time deserted — another monument, 

286 


A BREAK FOR LIBERTY 


Jack Opposed, to King Leopold’s rule. He took refuge 
from the burning heat, which did not appear to incom- 
mode the negroes, in one of the empty and half-ruined 
huts. There he ate his meal of rancid kwanga — all that 
his guards would allow him. While he squatted on the 
floor eating, his eye was attracted by a bright light, the 
reflection of the sun on some polished surface in the wall 
of the hut Out of sheer curiosity he stepped across, and 
drew from the interlaced wattles the head of a small ax. 
Its edge was very sharp, as Jack found to his cost when 
he drew his finger across it ; and although in parts rusty, 
it appeared to be of very fine steel, too fine to be of native 
workmanship. Wondering who had been its owner, and 
how it came to be stuck, separate from its shaft, into the 
wall of a rough native hut, he slipped it into his pocket; 
it might prove a weapon of value to an otherwise un- 
armed man. 

There was nothing to cause his guards to suspect him 
when the march was once more resumed. In an hour 
or two they came to a place below the series of rapids 
where it was safe to launch the canoe. There the party 
divided. The carriers being all gone, the canoe left be- 
hind could only be fetched by some of the Askari, and 
after some squabbling, ten of them went back, the rest 
promising to wait for them at a convenient spot down 
the river. As they paddled away. Jack gathered from 
the talk of his own escort, in a dialect which had some 
slight resemblance to that of the men of Banonga, that 
they expected to arrive at this place, an old camping- 
ground by the river, before nightfall. They had placed 
him amidships of the canoe, a light one, suitable for 
portage, with no platform, and therefore nothing be- 
tween him and the water but the bark. 

Keenly he watched the banks, hoping to be able at a 
favorable moment to turn his observations to account. 

287 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


But except for a few hippos half hidden in the long grass 
or reeds at the river-side, and here and there a crocodile 
basking on a rock or sand-bank, its scaly back scarcely 
distinguishable from the soil, the river was deserted. 
Forest lined the banks on both sides, its continuity only 
occasionally broken by clearings showing signs of burnt 
villages. The trees were beginning to throw long shad- 
ows over the water; sunset must be fast approaching; 
still no means of escape had suggested itself. Yet es- 
cape, if effected at all, must be effected soon, for he did 
not know when, with his transference to a steamer, his 
immediate fate would be sealed. 

Should he risk all, spring overboard, and swim for the 
bank? He was tempted to do so, though he could not 
repress a shudder as he thought of the crocodiles now 
beginning to wake from their afternoon nap. But he 
knew that as soon as he came to the surface he would 
be overhauled in two or three strokes of the paddles, 
even if the paddlers did not think his attempt to escape 
sufficient justification for a little Albini practice. In 
any case his death or capture could be a matter of only 
a few minutes. 

But as time passed, Jack resolved that he would chance 
the crocodiles if he could elude his guards. He would 
run any risk rather than go to Boma and submit him- 
self to the tender mercies of the Congo State officials. 
A crocodile, after all, might prove a more merciful 
enemy ! 

They came to a part of the river where the channel 
narrowed, and though the fall was not enough to deserve 
the name of a rapid the increased velocity of the current 
and the presence of large rocks necessitated some cau- 
tion on the part of the paddlers. Jack could not help 
hoping that the canoe would come to grief. In the con- 
fusion there might be a bare chance of escape, though, 

288 


A BREAK FOR LIBERTY 


being no more than a fair swimmer, he was not blind to 
the added risk he would run, owning to the strength of 
the current and the danger of being dashed against the 
rocks. 

But the Askari, experienced voyagers, successfully 
navigated this stretch of the river, and as the canoe shot 
safely into smoother water Jack’s hopes again fell. Then 
a thought occurred to him. Why wait upon chance ? Why 
not make his own opportunity? He felt in his pocket; 
the ax-head was still there; its edge was sharp. If the 
canoe did not meet with disaster from without, why not 
from within? He was sitting on one of the thwarts 
amidships; the paddlers were standing on the thwarts 
forward and astern of him. All the Askari were pad- 
dling except three, and these were squatting, two at the 
one end, one at the other, of the canoe, with their rifles 
between their knees. In his position Jack was almost 
completely screened from them. The paddlers had their 
rifles slung over their shoulders : the baggage was 
equally distributed over the whole length of the canoe. 

Though built of the frailest material, the canoe was 
of considerable length. This was the one drawback to 
the plan which had suggested itself to Jack — to drive 
a hole in the craft at any moment when the attention of 
the crew seemed sufficiently engaged to give him a 
chance of doing so unobserved. But the size of the canoe 
rendered it doubtful whether any hole he might make 
would be large enough to sink the vessel before it could 
be paddled ashore. This could only be proved by making 
the attempt. 

Time passed on; no opportunity occurred. The pas- 
sage here was easy, and the paddlers did their work almost 
automatically. It needed no attention. Jack was almost 
giving up the idea when a chance suddenly came. He 
heard the leader of the Askari call out: “There is the 

289 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


gorge, just ahead: soon we shall be at our camping- 
ground. Be steady!’’ 

The canoe went faster and faster, and in a few min- 
utes entered a gorge strewn with jagged rocks threat- 
ening destruction at every yard. The men stopped sing- 
ing — they sang at their paddles from morning till night 
— and shouted with excitement as their vessel escaped 
as by a miracle being dashed to pieces on one or other 
of the rocks in mid stream. Choosing the moment when 
the shouting was the loudest and the danger probably 
greatest. Jack stooped down from his thwart, and, draw- 
ing the ax-head from his pocket, thrust it with all his 
strength into the side of the canoe near the bottom, where 
there was already an inch of bilge water. Working the 
steel to and fro, he enlarged the hole as much as he 
could, and then withdrew his clumsy implement: the 
water rushed in with a gurgling noise which must, he 
feared, attract the attention of the paddler just above 
him. But the man gave no sign ; he was too intent upon 
his task. 

A few seconds later. Jack seized another moment of 
excitement to repeat his work on the other side of the 
canoe. His heart jumped to his mouth as he heard one 
of the men shout a word of warning; but he maintained 
his stooping position, thinking there was less chance of 
detection than if he suddenly moved. In consequence 
of the water rising in the bottom, the second hole was 
made somewhat higher than the first: and as Jack 
watched the level of the water gradually creeping up, 
he felt that the holes were not large enough to prevent 
the paddlers from beaching the canoe if they ran into 
smooth water during the next few minutes. The bark 
seemed to close up as soon as the ax-head was with- 
drawn, leaving only as a narrow slit what had been a gap- 
ing rent. A glance ahead showed smooth water within 

290 


A BREAK FOR LIBERTY 


a few yards. There might be just time to make two more 
rapid cuts. He plunged his hand into the water now 
some inches deep, and drove the steel with all his force 
twice into the bottom beneath his feet. As soon as the 
canoe left the race, the heavy going due to the water that 
had been shipped would at once be detected, even if none 
of the paddlers, indeed, should happen to glance down 
and see the water washing the packages. True, they 
might suppose the water had come over the sides of the 
canoe during their recent rough passage; but the mis- 
take must soon be discovered. 

Jack saw that there was little chance of the canoe 
sinking in mid stream. What could he do? Was this, 
apparently his only opportunity, to be lost? He had 
only a few seconds to decide. He would wait until the 
leaks were discovered, and the canoe was headed towards 
the shore. Then, if he dived into the river, his guards 
would be torn between two impulses— the one to pursue 
him, the other to beach the canoe before she sank with 
them and their stores. To them the situation would be 
complex: they would waste time in their confusion; and 
with a sinking canoe beneath them they would scarcely 
be able to use their rifles. 

Things happened almost exactly as Jack expected. 
When the canoe reached smooth water one of the Askari 
suddenly caught sight of the water slowly rising, and 
washing from side to side with every stroke of the pad- 
dles. “A snag!” he shouted, inferring that a hole had 
been knocked in the bottom by a rock. The leader at 
once cried to the men to run for the right bank. Jack’s 
time came as the canoe was swinging round. Rising 
suddenly from his seat, with a vigorous shove he sent 
the paddler behind him rolling back upon the next man ; 
he in his turn fell upon the next; until four of the pad- 
dlers in the after part of the canoe were floundering in 

291 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


• the water, and the frail craft rocked almost gunwale un- 
der. The other paddlers were so much occupied in ad- 
justing themselves to the difficulty and preventing the 
canoe from being swamped that they were hardly aware 
of what their prisoner was doing until it was too late 
to prevent him. While the vessel was tilted over, Jack 
placed one foot on the side farthest from the bank to- 
waMs which they were paddling and dived into the 
river. 

The leader of the Askari immediately shouted to the 
men in the water to pursue him, pointing out the direc- 
tion in which he had disappeared beneath the surface. 
He was making for the left bank. Glancing back when 
he came up. Jack saw that two men were swimming 
after him, and realized that he was no match for them. 
He was only a fair swimmer; his pursuers, drawn from 
one of the riverine villages of the Lower Congo, were 
as dexterous in the water as they were in the canoe. 
When Jack became aware that he was being rapidly over- 
hauled, he gripped more tightly the ax-head which he 
had never let go, resolving to fight to the last rather 
than suffer recapture. The negroes had divested them- 
selves of their rifles, or had lost them when thrown so 
suddenly into the river : and even such a clumsy weapon 
as an ax-head might prove very formidable to unarmed 
men. 

In the excitement. Jack had forgotten all about the 
constant peril of the Congo — the crocodiles. Straining 
every nerve, he was wondering whether he should stop 
swimming before he ran the risk of being completely 
exhausted, since there seemed little chance of his gaining 
the opposite bank before his pursuers, when he was 
startled by a despairing scream behind. The horrible 
meaning of it flashed upon him; he glanced back; only 
one swimmer was to be seen, and he was no longer com- 

292 


A BREAK FOR LIBERTY 


ing towards him; he had turned and with frantic haste 
was making for the nearest point of the bank. The 
second man had disappeared; the crocodile had proved 
a better swimmer than any. Shuddering in every limb, 
Jack, for a moment, felt his strength leaving him. As 
in a nightmare he seemed to see the horrid jaws of croco- 
diles all round him, waiting to tear him limb from limb. 
But he recovered in a moment; and still gripping the 
ax-head, struck out desperately for the far bank, which 
was now, indeed, scarcely more distant than the other. 
He touched the sandy bottom, struggled panting up the 
bank, and, completely exhausted by the physical and 
mental strain of this day’s events, crawled rather than 
walked to a spot where he felt himself secure at least 
from the dreaded reptile. 

For several minutes he lay with his head upon his 
arms, so much spent as to be almost careless of what 
might become of him. But, rousing himself at length, 
he rose and scanned the river for signs of his late escort. 
What was his alarm to see them hastening towards him 
from the opposite bank; three minutes’ hard paddling 
would bring them within reach of him. The sight of 
them woke Jack fully to his danger; he turned his back 
on the river and plunged into the thick bushes that came 
almost to the water’s edge, and extended into the forest 
behind. With what marvelous quickness, he thought, 
had the Askari brought their water-logged vessel to the 
bank, emptied her of water, and temporarily stopped the 
leaks! No doubt they had been spurred to their utmost 
effort by the knowledge of what awaited them if they 
returned to their commander with the report that the 
prisoner had escaped by any means but death. 

It was now late in the afternoon. Within three or 
four minutes the pursuers would have beached the canoe 
and dashed in pursuit. Jack knew that he must make the 

293 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


most of his few minutes’ start. If he could evade them 
for an hour, he would be concealed by the darkness. 
Already, indeed, it was dim and dusky in the forest 
shades he had now entered. There was no path; he 
could but plunge on where the undergrowth seemed thin- 
nest, his general direction being, as nearly as he could 
judge, at an oblique angle with the stream. The Askari 
would expect him either to follow the river, or to strike 
directly inland; at least, he hoped that the diagonal be- 
tween these two courses would not occur to them. While 
daylight lasted, his trail would betray him, of course; 
but even if the men were trained forest trackers the light 
would in a few minutes be too bad for them to pick up 
his trail. 

In a few minutes he heard muffled shouts behind him. 
The pursuers had landed. Then all was silent, save for 
the forest sounds now familiar to him. He moved as 
cautiously as the necessity for haste permitted, aware 
that the breaking of a twig, a stumble, any unusual 
sound, might bring his quick-eared enemy upon his track. 
But with all his care he could not avoid accidents. Here 
a branch of cactus would rip up a great rent in his thin 
linen coat, with a sound that set the teeth on edge. There 
a low-growing creeper would trip him up, so that he 
fell with a crash headlong, and rose with his face bleed- 
ing from a dozen deep scratches. In one such tumble 
he lost his helmet, and he could not stop to findjt. But 
he kept the ax-head always in his grasp: that was his 
only defense. 

The fall of night found him still pressing resolutely 
forward; but when he could no longer see to thread his 
way in the close tangle of vegetation, he halted, and be- 
came aware that he was dripping wet, and that he had 
to spend the night, soaked as he was, without shelter 
in the primeval forest. It would not have been a pleas- 

294 


A BREAK FOR LIBERTY 


ant prospect even to a native inured to forest travel; 
the negroes indeed are careful not to be benighted far 
from their village. In other circumstances, as black 
darkness wrapped him round, Jack might have felt not a 
few tremors; from Samba he had learned something of 
the perila of night in densely wooded places. But he had 
lately passed through experiences so trying that the vis- 
ionary terrors of these gloomy depths had no power to 
trouble him. He sought, however, a suitable tree, and 
climbed out of the reach of prowling beasts, hoping 
that he would also escape the attention of leopards and 
pythons, which make no account of the lower branches 
of trees. 

He had never spent a more uncomfortable night. In- 
sects stung him; caterpillars crawled over him; wood- 
lice worried him. Dozing in spite of these annoyances, 
he would wake with a start and the nightmare feeling 
that he was falling, falling helplessly through space. His 
wet clothes stuck clammily to his skin; he shivered as 
with ague, his teeth chattered, his head was racked with 
pain. Stiff and sore from his narrow perch and his 
cramped position, he clung on through the night; and 
when, after the long darkness, the pale dawn at last 
stole through the foliage, and he dropped to the ground, 
he moved like an old man, with aching limbs, unre- 
freshed, feeling the want of food, yet utterly without 
appetite. 

But he must go on. His enemies had not discovered 
him; no beast had attacked him; these were positive 
gains. He could make no plans: all that he could do 
was to follow a course calculated by the sun to take him 
in the direction of the river, going up stream. He walked 
stiffly, but steadily, during the morning, picking here and 
there handfuls of phrynia berries— the only berries of 
the forest which he knew to be edible. 

295 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


About midday he resolved to risk a more direct course 
to the river, in the hope that his pursuers, finding no 
trace of him, had given up the hunt. But it was easier 
tc decide than to carry out. For all he knew, he might 
have been wandering in a circle, and the windings of the 
river might make every step he took one in the wrong 
direction. After some hesitation he turned somewhat 
to the left and trudged on, so intent upon his immediate 
surroundings that his range of vision was restricted to 
a few yards. 

He noticed that the ground, as he walked, was becom- 
ing a little less thickly covered with undergrowth ; but it 
was with a shock of alarm that, at a sudden lifting of 
the eyes, he saw, standing straight in front of him, a 
young, straight, dusky figure armed with a long rifle. 
Springing instinctively behind the nearest tree, he 
grasped the ax-head, ready to do battle. 

But what was this ? A voice spoke to him, a voice that 
he knew, giving him pleasant salutation, calling him by 
name. 

''Losako,^ Lokolobolo !’’ 

He came from behind the tree and went forward, 
stretching forth his hands. 

“Samba!” he cried joyously. 

^ Salutation addressed to a superior. 




296 


CHAPTER XXVI 


TURNING THE TABLES 

Samba at once led the way in a different direction 
from that lately followed by Jack, saying that he would 
explain his presence as they went along. 

Jack had hardly reached the tent to which he had been 
decoyed by Elbel’s messenger before Samba knew that 
his uneasy feeling was justified; his master had fallen 
into a trap. Stealing up close behind the messenger, 
he had plunged his knife into the man’s back and dashed 
into the forest. He had no difficulty in escaping from 
the spot; but the report of the rifle fired after him had 
reached Elbel’s camp below the fort, and Samba found 
that he had to make a very wide detour to avoid the ene- 
Hiy’s scouts. But he managed at last to get into the fort, 
and implored Barney to send out a party to rescue his 
captain. Barney was much distressed by the news, but 
resolutely refused to throw away lives and risk the safety 
of the fort in a forlorn hope of that kind. All that he 
would do was to allow Samba, with three other men, 
Makoko, Lianza and Lingombela, to follow up Mr. Mar- 
tindale and Jack, rescue them if any chance occurred; 
if not, to see what became of them. 

But the four had great difficulty in getting out of the 
fort undetected; the enemy’s vigilance appeared to be 
doubled : and a full day elapsed before they were able to 
set off in the track of the prisoners. Failing to overtake 
the party in the forest before they embarked on the 
canoes, they had to cover on foot the long distance for 
297 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


which the Askari were able to use the river, though they 
shortened the journey to some extent by cutting straight 
across the country when the river wound. 

At last, when Samba had all but given up hope, they 
saw a party of ten Askari coming towards them from 
down the river. Samba did not suspect at first that 
these men were connected with those he sought. But 
keeping well out of sight, he tracked them to a spot 
where a canoe was concealed, and then he guessed at once 
that the men had been sent back to fetch a canoe left 
behind for want of sufficient carriers. It would be easy 
to keep ahead of this party, burdened as they were with 
the vessel; so Samba and his three companions pushed 
on, and soon came upon tracks of Mr. Martindale and 
Jack. They had noticed the newly-made grave with its 
stone cairn : it had puzzled them, and they did not know 
it was a grave until Samba pointed out that the litter 
had ceased to be used ; there were no longer the marks of 
four men walking always at the same distance apart; 
they then concluded that the elder Inglesa had died. 

They came by and by to the place where the party had 
reembarked. Samba’s only hope of overtaking them 
now was that they would certainly wait at some part of 
their journey until they were caught up by the other 
canoe; and it seemed to him that his expectation was 
borne out when, scouting ahead of the three, he sighted 
in the dusk a long canoe lying under the opposite bank 
in charge of three Askari. He ran back to his compan- 
ions and told them to hide in the bush ; then he returned 
to the spot, and from a safe concealment prepared to 
wait and watch. Night fell : the river was too broad for 
him to see across it; but presently he heard the sound 
of men approaching the canoe, and soon afterwards 
voices: Then all was silent. He kept up his watch for 
some time, half expecting to hear the sound of paddles ; 


TURNING THE TABLES 


but concluding from the continued silence that the men 
would not move till the morning, he went to sleep in a 
tree. 

Waking before dawn, he resumed his watch. In the 
early morning he saw eleven men land and make off in 
two parties into the forest, leaving three men on guard.' 
Instantly he jumped to the conclusion that Lokolobolo 
had escaped ; and a daring scheme suggested itself to him. 
Returning to his friends, he told them what he had seen 
and what he proposed. The four immediately set about 
building a light raft, and when it was finished they car- 
ried it some distance along the bank, launched it out of 
sight of the men in charge of the canoe, and punted them- 
selves across to the other side. An hour later only one 
man remained in the canoe, and he was a prisoner. 

Jack forbore to inquire what had become of the others; 
Samba merely said that their ammunition had been 
spoiled by the water. Samba and his companions were 
Congo natives; free from the restraining influence of 
the white man, it would be scarcely surprising if they 
took the opportunity of paying off some of the wrongs 
they had suffered at the hands of the Askari. 

From the prisoner Samba learned the whole story of 
the party since the time it left Elbel in the forest. Ty- 
ing the man up. Samba and his companions at once set 
to work to find the trail of the fugitive and of the men 
who had gone in pursuit. In the morning light it was 
easy to a practised scout like Samba to find what he 
sought. He soon discovered that the two parties of As- 
kari had failed to track their quarry, and were going 
haphazard through the forest. He himself then started 
to follow Jack up, and his three companions went forth 
to the canoe to await the return of the enemy. It was 
unlikely that the two parties would appear at the same 
time. If they returned at different times, the three scouts 

299 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


in ambush would only have to deal with six men or five 
men as the case might be. They were still waiting. 

“What would they do,” asked Jack, “when the enemy 
came back?” 

“Fire upon them from behind the trees,” replied 
Samba. “Three men will certainly be killed; are not 
the scouts Makoko, Lianza and Lingombela, three of the 
best marksmen in Ilombekabasi ? If the two or three 
men left do not run away, they will fight them. If they 
run away, they will follow them up and fire at them 
from behind trees.” 

Even as Samba spoke there came through the trees 
a sound as of distant firing. Samba quickened his steps ; 
for an hour or more his master and he plunged through 
the forest, the boy halting every now and then to listen 
intently. At length whispering “NkakayokoT ^ he laid 
his hand on Jack’s sleeve and gave a low call, like the 
rough scratching sound of a forest beetle. It was an- 
swered from the right hand. Striking off sharply in that 
direction, he led the way through a thin copse, and in 
a few moments the two stood at the brink of the river 
beside the canoe. Samba looked keenly around, whis- 
pered "‘EkoT^ and pointed to a low, bushy tree close 
at hand. For a second or two Jack could see nothing but 
green; but then, through the dense foliage, he caught 
the glint of a rifle barrel, and behind it — yes, a black face. 
The man came out with a low chuckle of amusement. 
It was Makoko. ''Bolotsi OT he said. His forest craft 
had been too much for Lokolobolo. 

Suddenly Samba held up his hand in warning. They 
listened ; it must have been the flight of a forest bird. 

“What was the firing?” asked Samba, in a low voice. 

“The killing of five men,” replied Makoko. 


1 Immediately. 2 There. 

300 


TURNING THE TABLES 


Jack caught the last words, '‘Banf otann!” and started. 

“Where are they?” he asked. 

“Gone to feed the crocodiles. Three first, then two.” 

Again Samba raised his hand. All listened intently. 
Jack heard nothing ; but Samba whispered, “They come !” 
and plucked him by the sleeve. All three hid among the 
trees. Two men came out from the other side — they 
were Lianza and Lingombela. 

“They are coming — six men,” said Lianza, in answer 
to Samba’s question. “Quickly! they heard the shots.” 

“We must shoot again from behind the trees,” said 
Samba. 

But Jack could not bear the idea of shooting down the 
unsuspecting wretches in cold blood. 

“Perhaps we can make them surrender,” he whis- 
pered. 

''Lako! LakoT said the negroes indignantly. 

“Yes: we will try.” 

Makoko and the other two men grumbled, but Samba 
silenced them. 

“It is Lokolobolo’s order,” he said. 

He ofifered Jack his Mauser, but Jack refused it with 
a smile, taking one of the Albinis which had been re- 
moved from the canoe. With the four he concealed him- 
self behind the bushes. He had already noticed that all 
traces of the recent incidents had been carefully oblit- 
erated. 

Six Askari came from the thick wall of bush. They 
started and looked at one another when they saw the 
canoe unguarded. Then they called their comrades. Re- 
ceiving no answer, they began to discuss the strange dis- 
appearance of the three men who had been left in charge. 
Beckoning Samba to follow him. Jack came out from 
behind his bush. The men ceased their chatter; their 
jaws dropped; they stared at their late captive in blank 

301 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


amazement. He spoke to them quietly, Samba trans- 
lating. 

^T was hiding: I come to save you from being killed. 
Your eight comrades are already dead. If one of you 
lift his hand, he is a dead man. Behind the bushes my 
men wait ready to shoot you. Listen! They will an- 
swer when I call. You will see how hopeless it is to 
resist. Makoko 
“Endo!”" 

^Tingombela!’^ 

‘‘Endo!” 

“Lianza!’^ 

“Endo!’’ 

''Lay down your rifles,” continued Jack, "and beg for 
mercy.” 

There was but a moment’s hesitation, then one of the 
men sullenly obeyed, and the rest, one after another, fol- 
lowed his example. At Jack’s call the three scouts came 
from their hiding-place. Two of them covered the As- 
kari with their rifles, while the third collected the sur- 
rendered Albinis and placed them in the canoe. 

How Jack’s position had altered! An hour or two 
ago he was a fugitive, practically unarmed, with nearly 
a score of Askari hunting him down. Now he was in 
command of four scouts, fully armed, and in possession 
of a canoe and half a dozen prisoners who had proved 
themselves on the journey down to be expert paddlers. 
But, as Samba reminded him, he had still to deal with 
the ten Askaris who had been sent back to fetch the 
second canoe. They must be on their way down stream ; 
perhaps they were near at hand. Something must be 
done with them. To let them pass, or to leave them be- 
hind, would be absurd; they would almost certainly fol- 


^ Here. 


302 


TURNING THE TABLES 

# 

low up Jack and his party, perhaps finding a means of 
sending word to Elbel in time to cut them off from the 
fort. The safety of himself and his men demanded that 
this second band should be disposed of. 

To deal with them as he had dealt with the six would 
not be easy. They would come by water, not by land. 
He did not wish to kill them. What other course was 
open to him? 

He remembered that the Askari had spoken of an old 
camping-place a little below the spot on which they 
stood. This had doubtless been fixed as the rendezvous 
of the whole party. The prisoners would know its exact 
locality. With a little luck, he thought, all the ten might 
be captured unharmed. He got Samba to question the 
sullen men. Yes, they knew the camping-ground. 

“Then they must paddle us to it,” said Jack. 

Making sure that the holes he had cut in the canoe 
had been sufficiently caulked to allow of a short passage 
without danger. Jack embarked with all the men, and 
in a quarter of an hour reached the camping-ground. 
It was about a hundred yards back from the opposite 
bank, pretty well hidden from the river. A few rough 
grass shelters, somewhat tumbledown, and traces of for- 
mer encampments, showed that it was a frequent place 
of call for parties going up or down. When all had 
landed. Jack sent Makoko and Lianza along the bank 
up the river to look for the oncoming of the Askari, who, 
though they must necessarily have moved slowly while 
carrying the canoe, would no doubt make rapid progress 
when once more afloat. The six Askari looked a little 
hopeful when they saw the two scouts leave ; but Samba 
damped their spirits at once when he told them that at 
the slightest sign of revolt they would be shot without 
mercy. To make things sure, and to prevent the scheme 
he had in mind from being foiled. Jack ordered the men 

303 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


to be bound by the feet, which was very quickly done 
by Samba and Lingombela with the stripped tendrils of 
climbing plants. 

It was dark before the scouts returned. They reported 
that the Askari had camped for the night some dis- 
tance up stream and would certainly arrive early next 
morning. Jack arranged that when the canoe should 
come in sight, only himself and two of his prisoners 
would be visible in the center of the camp. The Askari 
would suppose that the rest of the party were out forag- 
ing — taking, as the custom is with the troops of the Free 
State and the Concessions, what they pleased from the 
black subjects of King Leopold and paying nothing, ex- 
cept, perhaps, blows, in return. The new-comers, not 
expecting any change in the relations of their comrades 
with the white prisoner, would march unconcernedly into 
camp. Jack was pretty confident if things came to this 
point he would succeed in making the men surrender 
without fighting. 

In the early morning the Askari’s paddling song was 
heard as they came down the river. The singing ceased ; 
there was a shout, and Jack ordered the captured Askari 
by his side to call an answering greeting. Then the party 
came in sight, eight men in a straggling line approach- 
ing up the path. The remaining two had evidently been 
left behind to tie up the canoe. 

The first man addressed a chaffing remark to the As- 
kari with Jack, and then asked where the rest of the 
party were. The men pointed vaguely to the forest; 
their comrades were, in fact, there, gagged and securely 
bound to the trees. Half a dozen rifles were stacked in 
the middle of the camping-ground — the new-comers 
placed theirs close by, and then began to chatter about 
trifles in the African’s way. 

Meanwhile Jack was keeping a keen eye on the men. 
304 


TURNING THE TABLES 


The two captured Askari were obviously ill at ease. 
There were the rifles within a few yards of them, yet 
they dared not move towards them, for they knew that in 
the shelter of the trees behind stood Samba with the three 
scouts ready to shoot them down. They replied briefly 
to their comrades’ questions; and then, in obedience to 
instructions given by Jack previously, suggested that the 
new-comers should go to a cane-brake a few yards down 
stream and bring back a supply of canes for building 
shelters like those already erected; there were not suffi- 
cient for the whole party. The men moved off. No 
sooner had they disappeared than Samba and the three 
men came from behind the trees, removed all the rifles 
into the huts, and all except Samba stationed themselves 
in hiding on the side of the encampment opposite to that 
through which the Askari had just gone. Samba re- 
mained with Jack. 

In a quarter of an hour the men returned. To their 
amazement, the white prisoner went forward to meet 
them. Through Samba he spoke to them. 

‘Tt will not be necessary for you to build the huts.” 

“Why? What does the white man mean by talking to 
us? And who are you?” 

Samba did not reply to their questions : he waited for 
the next words from Jack. 

“There are enough empty huts here.” 

“How can that be? There are ten of us, and fifteen 
before. The huts will not hold half of us, and who are 
you ?” 

“The fifteen are dead, or taken prisoner.” 

The men gaped, unable to appreciate the full import 
of the news. They dropped their load of cane and 
looked at the boy in astonishment. 

“What do you mean? What has happened? Who are 
you ?” 


30s 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“Tell them, Samba/’ 

“I am Samba, the servant of Lokolobolo. I came down 
the river with other servants of Lokolobolo. We fell 
upon your comrades, and scattered them like the leaves 
of the forest. We have the rifles — your rifles.” 

The men gave a startled glance to where the stack 
of arms had been. Jack thought they paled beneath 
their dusky skins. 

“See !” continued Samba ; “if Lokolobolo lifts his hand, 
you will all be shot. His men are there, behind the 
trees. You have no rifles. Of what good are knives 
against guns? You will be even as the men who are 
short with their rubber. You will be shot down before 
you can strike a blow. No; do not move,” he said 
quickly, as the men appeared inclined to make a dash 
for the forest: “you can not run so fast as the bullets. 
You know that, you men who shoot boys and women 
as they flee from you. Throw down your knives at 
Lokolobolo’s feet if you wish to live!” 

The man who had acted as spokesman for his com- 
rades obeyed without a word. The rest followed his 
example. At a sign from Jack, Makoko and the others 
came from their place of hiding and tied the feet of the 
prisoners in such a way that while they could walk with 
short steps, they were unable to run. In a few moments 
the two men left at the canoe were similarly disposed. 

And now Jack was in command of four armed scouts 
and sixteen unarmed prisoners. He at once decided to 
make use of the Askari as paddlers. One canoe would 
be sufficient; he would sink the vessel in which he had 
dug the holes. With sixteen men, expert in the use of 
the paddle, he would make a rapid journey up-stream. 

He was about to give the order to start when it sud- 
denly occurred to him that it would be well to assure 
himself first that the coast was clear. So far he had 
306 


TURNING THE TABLES 


seen no natives either on river or on land since he left 
Elbel, save those of his own party. The riverine villages 
had all been deserted, and the tributary down which 
he had come was at -all times little frequented. But it 
seemed very unlikely that many more days should pass 
without his seeing a stranger, and when he began to 
think on these lines, he wondered whether perhaps 
Elbel himself might not have occasion for sending mes- 
sengers down-stream, and whether the party they had 
met, conveying stores to Elbel’s force, might not be 
returning. Having escaped by such wonderful good 
fortune, it would be sheer folly to throw away his 
chances of getting back to Ilombekabasi by any want 
of caution. Accordingly he sent Makoko up the river and 
Samba down the river to do the little preliminary scout- 
ing. 

About midday Samba came running back in a state 
of great excitement. He had run so fast that his legs 
were trembling, and sweat poured from his body. Not 
an hour’s paddling distant, he had seen a smoke-boat 
and a large number of canoes coming up the river. He 
had never seen so many boats before, and they were 
crowded with men. And on the smoke-boat there were 
white men. 

''At last!” ejaculated Jack. This, he supposed, was 
the Captain van Vorst of whom Elbel had spoken, 
coming up with regular troops of the State. Whoever 
was in command, the flotilla could portend no good to 
Jack or Ilombekabasi, and he saw at once that he must 
give up the idea of using the Askari’s canoe. He could 
certainly go faster than the expedition, which must go 
the pace of its slowest cargo boats; but scouting or 
foraging parties of the enemy might push on ahead and 
sight him on one of the long stretches of the river; and 
his men could be descried from a long distance as they 
307 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


made the portage. Pursuit and capture would then be 
certain. 

His mind was instantly made up. His journey to the 
fort must be a land march, and it must be begun in all 
haste. He quickly gave his orders. The canoes were 
unloaded, and the stores and ammunition given to the 
Askari to carry. The vessels were then scuttled and 
sunk, and the whole party plunged into the forest, after 
a time taking a course almost the same as that which 
Samba had followed on his solitary journey. But before 
they had gone far, Jack, not disposed to leave the neigh^ 
borhood without getting more exact particulars of the 
advancing host, went back with Samba, leaving the rest 
of the party to continue their march. Under their loads 
the men went slowly, and could easily be overtaken. 

Samba rapidly wormed his way through the forest 
back to the river-bank. They reached a position, whence, 
unseen themselves, they could command a long reach 
of the river. There they waited. 

Soon they heard the regular beat of the steamer’s 
paddles. Then came the songs of the canoe-boys. By 
and by a steam launch came into view round a bend of 
the river. It was crowded. Far away it was as yet. 
Jack could easily distinguish the white-clad figures of 
three Europeans on deck, amid a crowd of negroes in 
the tunic, pantaloons and fez of the State troops. 
Clearly it was as he had feared. The Concession had 
followed the usual course when the rapacity of its offi- 
cials had provoked a revolt too formidable to be coped 
with by its own forces, and had called in the aid of the 
regular army. As canoe after canoe appeared in the 
wake of the steamer, Jack could not help a feeling of 
dismay at the size of the force arrayed against him. His 
spirits sank lower and lower as he watched. By the 
time the steamer came abreast of his hiding-place, the 
308 


TURNING THE TABLES 


flotilla filled the whole of the stretch of river open to his 
view. In the still air, amid the songs and chatter of the 
natives, he could hear the laughter of the Europeans as 
they passed. He knew that only a portion of the men 
in this armada were fighting men; the rest were pad- 
dlers and carriers, not part of the combatant force. But 
a rough attempt to count the men bearing rifles gave him 
at least three hundred, and he started as he saw in one 
canoe what was clearly the shield of a machine gun. 
Captain van Vorst, if it was he, undoubtedly meant 
business. 

Before the last canoe had passed their hiding-place. 
Jack and Samba started to overtake their party. The 
former was deep in thought. 

“We must reach the fort before them,"’ he said. 

“They go very slow,” was Samba’s reply. 

“Yes, and the carrying of all their stores and canoes 
up the rapids will take many days. But we must hurry 
as fast as we can.” 

“Much chicotte for the Askari,” said Samba with a 
grin. 

Jack did not reply. He could not adopt the barbarous 
methods of the enemy; but he had not the heart to 
dash Samba’s very natural hopes of paying back to the 
Askari something of what they had dealt to the car- 
riers on the way down. Short of thrashing them he 
would urge them to their utmost speed. What diffi- 
culties he might meet with in regaining the fort, he did 
not stop to consider. The thought of Barney holding 
his own there — had he been able to hold his own? — and 
of the large reinforcements coming to support Elbel, 
was a spur to activity. Ilombekabasi and its people were 
in danger; and the post of danger demanded the pres- 
ence of Lokolobolo. 


309 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE RETURN OF LOKOLOBOLO 

“Lokolobolo! Lokolobolo! Lokolobolo ^olotsi! Loko- 
lobolo is here ! Lokolobolo has come back to us ! Bolotsi 
O! Why do we laugh? Why do we sing? Samba has 
found Lokolobolo ! Samba has brought him back to us !” 

Ilombekabasi was delirious with joy. Men and women 
were shouting, laughing, singing ; the children were 
dancing and blowing strident notes upon their little 
trumpets; Imbono’s drummer was banging with all his 
might, filling the air with shattering thunder. Jack 
quivered with feeling ; his lips trembled as he sat 
once more in his hut, listening to the jubilant cries his 
arrival had evoked. It was something, it was much, 
that he had been able so to win the devoted affection of 
these poor negroes of the Congo. 

Outside, the two chiefs, Imbono and Mboyo, were 
talking of the joyful event. 

“Yes! wonderful! Lokolobolo is here! and with 
him two strange white chiefs. Wonderful! Did you 
ever see such a big man? I am big,” said Imbono, “but 
I am not so big as Makole, the chief of Limpoko, and 
one of the strange white men is bigger than he.” 

“It needed two ropes to draw him up from the gully,” 
said Mboyo. “I am strong, but though I had four men 
to help me, it was hard work. He must be a very great 
chief.” 

“And the other must be a great chief, too. Did not 
310 


THE RETURN OF LOKOLOBOLO 


Samba say Lokolobolo gave him his last bottle of devil 
v/ater V’ 

“But the big man is hurt. It is the leg. It is not so 
bad as Ikola’s; but Ikola was shot. They have put him 
ill Barnio’s hut; the other chief is with Lokolobolo. It 
is good that the white chiefs have come. Now Loko- 
lobolo will sweep Elobela down the hillside, even as a 
straw in the storm.’^ 

“But what of the smoke-boat that Samba says is 
coming with the white men in white, and the black men 
in cloth the color of straw and things on their heads 
the color of fire? Will Lokolobolo be able to beat 
them, too?’" 

“Lokolobolo is able to beat all Bula Matadi; and he 
has the other white men to help. Never fear! Loko- 
lobolo will beat them all. We shall see. There he is, 
coming out of his hut with the white chief. Wanda ^ 
Lokolobolo!” 

“You must be a proud man to-day, Mr. Challoner,” 
said the stranger. 

“I am too anxious to be proud,” said Jack with a 
smile. “I haven’t the heart to stop their shouting and 
making a noise, but it’s a pity to disturb our enemy in 
the camp down yonder. I shall have to go and make 
a speech to them, I suppose ; it is more in your line than 
mine, Mr. Arlington. Luckily, I’m not sufficiently fluent 
in their language to be long-winded.” 

They went together into the midst of the throng. 

When within three marches of Ilombekabasi, Jack’s 
party had stumbled upon a wretched encampment in 
the forest which proved to contain two white men and 
three negroes. Samba came upon them first, and, 
startled to find white men at this spot, he was cocking 


1 The highest salutation, given to a person of great dignity. 

311 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


his rifle, supposing them to be State offlcers, when one 
of them called to him in a Congo dialect, not to shoot; 
he was an Inglesa. When Jack came up he found that 
the taller of the two men, the one who had spoken, a 
huge fellow with a great black beard, was a missionary 
named Dathan, the other being the Honorable George 
Arlington, with whose name Jack was familiar. Mr. 
Arlington was a man of mark. After a brilliant career 
at Cambridge, he had entered Parliament and become 
an under-secretary of State at a younger age than 
almost any one before him. When his party was out of 
office, he took the opportunity of traveling in many 
quarters of the globe, to study at first-hand the great 
problems which more and more demand the attention, 
of British statesmen. Now, in his fortieth year, he was 
recognized as an authority on the subjects which he had 
so specially made his own. He had come out to make 
a personal study of the Congo question, and, in order 
to secure freedom of observation, had decided to enter 
Congo territory, not from Boma, whence he would 
be shadowed throughout by officials, but from British 
territory through Uganda. In Unyoro he had met his 
old college chum, Frank Dathan, now a missionary en- 
gaged on a tour of inspection of his society’s work in 
Central Africa. Dathan, having completed his task in 
Uganda, was to make his way into the Congo State and 
visit several mission stations there. The two friends 
thereupon arranged to travel together. 

Mr. Arlington being anxious to see a little of what 
was an almost unexplored part of Africa, they chose as 
their route the northern fringe of the great forest. But 
they got into difficulties when they entered country 
which, though not yet “administered” or “exploited,” 
was nominally Free State territory. At the sight of 
white men, the natives they met, with one accord, took 
312 


THE RETURN OF LOKOLOBOLO 


to the woods. The result was that the travelers were 
once or twice nearly starved; many of their carriers 
deserted with their loads, and they both suffered a good 
deal from exposure and privation. To crown their mis- 
fortunes, Dathan fell with a loose rock one day when 
he was climbing down a steep bank to get water, and 
broke his leg. Arlington tried without success to set the 
bone, and was hurrying on in the hope of finding a Free 
State outpost and a doctor, when Jack came upon them. 

Jack at once frankly explained his position. He did 
not give details of his work at Ilombekabasi, but he saw 
no reason for concealing the circumstances which had 
driven him into antagonism with the officials of the Con- 
cession. He related what had happened to his uncle, 
and how he had escaped from the net woven about him 
by Elbel ; he told the strangers also what he had actually 
seen of the Congo Government’s method of dealing with 
the natives. Then he asked them whether they would 
like to place themselves under the care of Elbel, who 
could, if he were disposed, send them under escort to 
Stanleyville, where the missionary might receive com- 
petent treatment. Both were disinclined to do this ; they 
would prefer to keep themselves free from the Congo 
State or its Trusts. The alternative seemed to be to 
accompany Jack. This might certainly give rise to com- 
plications; Mr. Dathan especially was loath to appear to 
identify himself with an armed revolt against the State. 
Missionaries, as he told Jack, were already in bad odor 
with the authorities; they had told too much of what 
was going on. In many parts they had come to be 
looked upon as the natives’ only defender, and had done 
a little, a very little, towards mitigating the worst features 
of their lot. But he was still more loath even to seem to 
countenance Elbel’s proceedings by seeking his camp; 
and Mr. Arlington thought that his presence in Ilombe- 

313 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


kabasi, when it became known to Elbel, might have a 
salutary effect on the Belgian. Ultimately, then, they 
decided to run the blockade with Jack into the fort. 

The augmented party had had no difficulty in reaching 
their destination. The same general course was fol- 
lowed as had been arranged for the reception of Mr. 
Martindale’s party. They halted in a copse on an 
eminence about six miles from the fort, and above it. 
To reach this spot they had to make a longer circuit than 
either Mr. Martindale or Elbel, in his first attempt to 
surprise Ilolo. But, before going farther, it was neces- 
sary to discover how the land lay. Samba was obviously 
the best of the party for this scouting work, but he 
could hardly be spared if the fort happened to be too 
closely invested for the entrance to be made. Jack, there- 
fore, chose Makoko, as a sturdy fellow and an excellent 
scout, scribbled a brief note to Barney, hid it in the 
negroes thick, woolly hair, and sent him on alone. If he 
came safely back to Ilombekabasi and it seemed to 
Barney possible to run the blockade, a flag was to be 
hoisted on one of the blockhouses. The_ signal would be 
acted on as soon as possible in the darkness. 

Makoko left at nightfall. Before dawn Samba went 
some two miles on ahead to a place where he could see 
the fort. He returned with the welcome news that a 
piece of red cloth was flying on the northern blockhouse. 
Jack waited impatiently throughout the day; as soon as 
it was dark. Samba led the party forward. They moved 
slowly, partly to allow time for careful scouting, partly 
because Mr. Dathan had to be carried, and proved a heavy 
burden even for six strong Askari. No difficulties were 
met with; Elbel had ceased to patrol the surroundings 
of the fort at night, and in the early hours of the 
morning, in pitch darkness, the party marched quickly 
in at the gate on the north side of the fort. Jack put 

314 


THE RETURN OF LOKOLOBOLO 


his own hut at Mr. Arlington’s disr^osal. Mr. Dathan 
was carried to Barney’s; and before hearing what had 
happened during his absence, Jack insisted on the mis- 
sionary’s having his injuries attended to. Barney man- 
aged to set the broken limb, though not without causing 
a good deal of pain, for which he whimsically apologized. 
Then Jack listened eagerly to his account of what had 
happened. 

Elbel had made two serious attacks. The first was 
an attempt to carry the fort by assault, made from the 
place whence he had sent his fire barrels rolling. But 
after the capture of his rifles and ammunition, a con- 
siderable number of Jack’s men, who had hitherto been 
spearmen, had been trained in the use of the Albini; so 
that Barney had a force of nearly ninety riflemen with 
which to meet the attack, half of them at least being 
good shots. One charge was enough for the enemy; 
the fire from the wall and blockhouses mowed down 
the advancing negroes by the score; they never reached 
the defenses, but turned and fled to cover in the gully 
and behind the rocks above. 

Then Elbel demolished the dam he had built on 'the 
slope, and allowed the river to flow again in the channel 
it had cut for itself down the long incline to the eastward. 

“What would he be doing that for, sorr? Seems to 
me he has wasted a terrible deal uv good time in putting 
up and pulling down. Two men I sent out as scouts 
niver came back, and I wondered to meself whether 
they’d been bagged, sorr, and had let out something that 
made Elbel want to play more tricks wid nature. Often 
did I see Elbel himself dodging round the fort wid his 
spy-glass in his hand, and ’tis the truth’s truth, I let 
some uv the men have a little rifle practice at him. Sure 
he must have a cat’s nine lives, sorr, for ten of the 
niggers said they were sartin sure they’d hit him.” 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


‘‘Trying to solve our water puzzle, Barney! Go on.’* 

There was an interval of some days ; then, at daybreak 
one morning, while a strong demonstration, apparently 
the preliminary of an attack, was made on the north 
and east, a body of men crept up the gully and made a 
sudden rush with ladders for the hole in the wall by 
which the scouts had been accustomed to go in and out. 
It was clear that Elbel’s best men were engaged in this 
job, for Barney heard loud cries for help from the small 
body he had thought sufficient to leave on the western 
face of the fort. Rushing to the place with a handful 
of men, he was just in time to prevent the enemy from 
effecting an entrance. There was a brief fight for two 
or three minutes ; then the ladders placed against the wall 
were hurled into the gully, and with them the forlorn 
hope of the storming party. 

“That was three days ago, sorr. And two or three 
uv our men declared they saw Mbota among the enemy, 
pointing out the very spot where the hole is whin it is 
a hole. You remember Mbota, sorr, — the man who 
brought in his wife on his back, her wid the hands cut 
off. ’Twas he I sent out scouting. Sure the chicotte 
had been at work wid him ; for niver a wan uv our men, 
I would swear before the Lord Chancellor uv Ireland, 
would turn traitor widout they were in mortal terror for 
their lives, or even worse.” 

“And you have not been attacked since?” 

“No, sorr. But I’ve had me throubles all the same. 
Samba ought to be made, beggin’ your pardon, sorr, high 
constable uv this fort.” 

“Indeed!” 

“Yes, sorr, ’cos it seems *tis only he that can kape 
the pace. Would ye believe it, sorr, the very next day 
after you were gone, Imbono’s men and Mboyo’s men 
began to quarrel; ’twas Orange and Green, sorr, and a 
3x6 


THE RETURN OF LOKOLOBOLO 


fine shindy. Whin Samba was here, heM make ^em 
laugh, and 'twas all calm as the Liffey ; but widout Samba 
— bedad! sorr, I didn’t know what in the world to do 
v/id ’em. Sure I wished Elbel would fight all the time, 
so that there’d be no time left for the spalpeens here to 
fight wan another. But at last, sorr, a happy thought 
struck me; quite an intimation, as one might say. I 
remimbered the day when the master — rest his soul! — 
and you made yourselves blood brothers uv Imbono. 
That was a mighty fine piece of work, thinks I. So next 
morning I had a big palaver — likambo the niggers call 
it, your Honor.” Barney’s air as he gave this- information 
to Mr. Arlington was irresistibly laughable. 'T made 
a spache, and Lepoko turned it into their talk as well 
as he could, poor fellow ; and sure they cheered it so 
powerful hard that I thought ’twas a mimber uv Parlia- 
mint I ought to be. Well, sorr, the end was I made 
Imbono and Mboyo blood brothers, and niver a word uv 
difference have they had since.” 

“A plan that might be tried with leaders of parties 
at home,” said Mr. Arlington with a smile. 

“There’s wan other thing that throubles me,” added 
Barney. “Our food is getting low, sorr. We had such 
a powerful lot that wan would have thought ’twould last 
foriver. But in a fortnight we shall be on very short 
commons, and we’ve been on half-rations this week or 
more.” 

“That’s bad news indeed. But we shall know our fate 
in a fortnight. The State troops are coming at last, 
Barney.” 

Barney pulled a long face when Jack told him about 
the flotilla he had seen coming up the river. But the 
next moment he smiled broadly. 

“Sure ’twill be our salvation, sorr. There’ll be a power 

317 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 

uv food on those canoes, and ’twill come in the nick uv 
time to save us from famine.” 

“But we’ve got to capture it first !’ 

“And won’t it be aisy, sorr? It won’t drop into our 
mouths, to be sure, but there’s niver a doubt we’ll git it 
by this or that.” 

Jack smiled at Barney’s confidence, which he could 
hardly share. He calculated that he had about a week’s 
grace before the State troops could arrive, unless they 
made a forced march ahead of their stores, which was 
not very likely. He could not look forward without 
misgiving. Elbel’s troops, strongly reinforced, and com- 
manded by an experienced military officer, would prove 
a very different enemy. He doubted whether it would 
be wise to wait the issue of a fight. Apart from the risk 
of being utterly crushed, there was a strong political 
reason against it, as Mr. Arlington did not fail to point 
out. Hitherto Jack had been dealing with an officer of 
the Societe Cosmopolite, and he could argue reasonably 
that he was only opposing unwarranted interference. 
But if he resisted an armed force of the State, it became 
at once open rebellion. 

“You render yourself liable to the punishment of a 
rebel, Mr. Challoner,” said Mr. Arlington, “and your 
British nationality will not help you. You might be 
shot or hanged. What I suggest to you is this. When 
the State forces appear, let me open negotiations with 
them. They will probably know my name ; I have a cer- 
tain influence in high quarters; I could probably make 
terms for you.” 

“But the people, Mr. Arlington ! You could not make 
terms for them. What would happen to them? They 
would fall into the power of their oppressors, and the 
old tale would be continued— illegal demands and exac- 
tions, floggings, maimings, murders. It was a solemn 
318 


THE RETURN OF LOKOLOBOLO 


charge from my uncle to stand by the defenseless 
negroes; it is no less the dictate of humanity; we, they 
and I, are in the same boat, sir, and we must sink or 
swim together.” 

As it was of supreme importance to Jack to know at 
what rate the hostile column was moving, he sent out 
that night Samba, Makoko and Lingombela, with orders 
to report the progress of the expedition from day to 
day. By taking the road through the forest, they should 
get into touch with the enemy by the time they reached 
the place where Mr. Martindale had left his canoes. If 
the scouts should find themselves unable to return to the 
fort, they were to light a large fire on the spot whence 
Samba had seen Barney’s flag flying, as a signal that the 
expedition had passed the place in question. If a small 
column should be coming on in advance, they were 
to light two fires a little apart from each other. 

Samba was even more light-hearted than usual when 
he left the fort with his comrades. He seemed to feel 
that this was a mission of special importance, the pre- 
lude to a final victory for Lokolobolo ; for the possibility 
of defeat for Lokolobolo never suggested itself to any 
man in Ilombekabasi. Mboyo and Lukela were at the 
wall to bid their son good-by. He laughed as he slipped 
down into the darkness. 

‘‘Ekeke e’afekaT ^ he whispered gleefully, and has- 
tened to overtake Makoko and Lingombela, who were 
already some distance up the gully. 

Shortly before dawn next day, the sentries reported a 
sound as of a large body of men moving up the hill. 
Jack instantly called the garrison to arms. There was a 
good deal of noise in the darkness above the fort. Here 
and there a dim light showed for a few moments, and 


^The last time. 


319 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


was promptly fired at. When day broke, Jack saw that 
the enemy had built a rough wall of stones loosely piled 
up, some fifty yards long and about four feet high, 
parallel with the north wall of the fort, one end resting 
on the edge of the gully. From a convenient spot in 
the gully, about two hundred yards above the fort, the 
enemy could creep to the extremity of the wall without 
coming under the fire of the garrison. It had evidently 
been erected to screen some operations going on behind 
it. To guard against a sortie from the fort, a covering 
force had been placed on the hill a quarter of a mile 
farther up; and there were small gaps between the ill- 
fitting stones, which would serve as loopholes for the 
riflemen. 

During the day the enemy were hard at work, digging 
a trench under cover of the wall. Jack wondered at first 
v/hether Elbel was going to make approaches to the 
fort by sap and mine, in the manner he had read of in 
histories of the great sieges. But another and still more 
disturbing thought occurred to him. Would the trench 
cut across the line of his conduit? Had Elbel at last 
fathomed the secret of his water supply? He anxiously 
examined the landmarks which had been disturbed some- 
what by the construction of the wall. As nearly as he 
could judge, the spring was a few yards south of the 
wall, and neither it nor the conduit would be discovered 
b>- the men digging the trench. Yet he could not but 
feel that Elbel’s latest move was not so much an attempt 
to undermine the defenses of the fort as to discover the 
source of its water supply. If he should have hit upon 
the fact that the water was derived, not from a well 
inside the walls, but from a spring outside, he would 
not be long in coming to the conclusion that it must be 
from a spot opposite the northern face; and by cutting 
a trench or a series of trenches across the ground in that 
320 


THE RETURN OF LOKOLOBOLO 


direction, he must sooner or later come across the conduit. 

The -work proceeded without intermission during the 
whole of the day, apparently without success, for the 
level of the water in the fort tank did not fall. But dark- 
ness did not put a stop to Elbel’s activity. When morning 
dawned, Jack saw that during the night an opening about 
five feet wide had been made in the wall, giving access 
to a passageway of about the same height, leading 
towards the fort, and roughly covered with logs, no 
doubt as a protection against rifle fire. Only about 
twenty yards of this passageway had been completed. 
The end towards the fort was closed by a light screen of 
timber, resting on rollers, and sufficiently thick to be 
impervious to rifle fire, as Jack soon found by experiment 
Evidently another trench was to be dug near the fort. 
To avoid the labor of building a second covering wall, 
Elbel had hit on the idea of a passageway through 
which his men might reach the spot where he desired 
the new trench to be begun. Protected by the screen, 
they could dig a hole several feet deep, and then, too 
low to be hit by shots from the fort, could proceed with 
the trench in safety. 

Jack wondered whether Elbel had not yet heard of the 
approach of the State forces. Such feverish activity was 
surely unnecessary when reinforcements .were only a 
few days’ march distant. It was Barney who suggested 
that Elbel had made such a mess of things hitherto that 
he was eager to do something, to gain a success of some 
kind, before the military forces should arrive. 

Under cover of the wooden screen, the enemy, as Jack 
had expected, started to dig another trench parallel with 
the wall. They had no lack of laborers ; as soon as one 
gang was tired, another was ready to take its place ; and 
the work was carried on very rapidly. With growing 
anxiety. Jack watched the progress of the trench towards 
321 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


the gully. His conduit was only three feet from the 
surface of the ground. Judging by the fact that his 
marksmen never got an opportunity of taking aim at 
the diggers, the trench must be at least five feet deep; 
and if an opening were made into the gully, the conduit 
was sure to be exposed. There was just one hope that 
they would fail. In digging the trench for his conduit, 
Jack’s men had come upon an outdrop of rock which 
had necessitated the laying of the pipes, for a length of 
some yards, several feet lower than the general level. 
If the enemy should happen to have struck this point, 
there was a fair chance of the conduit’s escaping their 
search; for, coming upon the layer of rock, they would 
probably not guess that pipes were carried beneath it. 
To reassure himself. Jack called up Imbono and Mboyo, 
and asked them if they could locate the spot where the 
rock occurred. Their impression agreed with his, that 
it must at any rate be very near the place where the 
enemy’s trench would issue into the gully. 

But Jack’s anxiety was not relieved at the close of the 
day, for again the work was carried on all night. He 
thought of a sortie, but reflected that this would be taken 
by Elbel as an indication that he was hot on the scent. 
And while a sortie might inflict loss on the enemy, it 
would not prevent Elbel from resuming his excavations 
as soon as the garrison had retired again within their 
defenses. 

With great relief Jack at last heard the sound of pick- 
axes striking on rock. It seemed too good to be true 
that the enemy had come upon the exact dozen yards 
of rock where alone the conduit was in little danger of 
being laid bare. Yet this proved to be the case. In the 
morning, Elbel drew off his workmen, apparently satis- 
fied, before the trench had been actually completed to 
the gully, that he was on the wrong track. A great load 
322 


THE RETURN OF LOKOLOBOLO 


was lifted from Jack’s mind. If the secret of the water 
supply had been discovered, he knew that the end could 
only be a matter of a few days. 

But although the work on the trench was stopped, 
Elbel still held the wall during the day, and kept the 
besieged continually on the alert with rifle fire. 

Three days passed in comparative inactivity. During 
these days Jack had much of his time taken up by Mr. 
A.rlington, who required of him a history of all that had 
happened since the first meeting with Elbel. The trav- 
eler made copious jottings in his note-book. He asked 
the most minute questions about the rubber traffic and 
the methods of the State and the Concessions; he had 
long interviews with Imbono and Mboyo, and endured 
very patiently Lepoko’s expanded versions of statements 
already garrulous; he took many photographs with his 
kodak of the people who had been maimed by the forest 
guards, and asked Jack to present him with a chicotte — 
one of those captured along with the Askari. He said 
very little, probably thinking the more. Certainly he let 
nothing escape his observation. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Dathan was making friends of all the 
children. Unable to endure the stuffiness of the hut, 
he had himself carried on a sheltered litter into the open, 
where, propped up on pillows, his burly form might be 
seen in the midst of a large circle of little black figures, 
who looked at him earnestly with their bright, intelligent 
eyes, and drank in the wonderful stories he told them^ 
Many of their elders hovered on the fringe of the crowd, 
and when the lesson was finished, they went away and 
talked among themselves of Nzakomba ^ the great Spirit 
Father who, as the houtu omfotaWotali^ said, had put 
It into the heart of Lokolobolo to defend and help them. 


2 Very tall man. 

323 


iGod. 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Before the dawn one morning, Lingombela came into 
the fort. He reported that the new enemy had only just 
finished the portage of their canoes and stores. The 
steamer had been left below the rapids, and the white 
men were embarking on canoes. There were not enough 
canoes to convey the whole expedition at one time, 
although some had been sent down the river to meet 
them. Two or three had been lost through attempting 
to save time by dragging them up the rapids. Lingom- 
bela had himself seen this, with Samba. Samba had no 
doubt already told what he had seen, but he did not 
know about the big gun which could fire as many shots 
as a hundred men, for the white men had not begun 
to practise at a mark in their camp above the rapids until 
Samba had left. 

“But we have seen nothing of Samba; where is he?” 

“He started to return to Ilombekabasi a day before 
I did.” 

“And Makoko?” 

“Makoko is still watching.” 

Lingombela’s statement about Samba alarmed Jack. 
What had become of the boy? Had he fallen into the 
enemy’s hands? It was too much to be feared. What 
else could have delayed him? In treading the forest, 
none of the scouts could travel so fast as he. If he had 
started a day before Lingombela he should have gained 
ai least five or six. hours. 

The news soon flew through the settlement that Samba 
was missing. J^boyo and his wife came to Jack to ask 
whether Lingombela had told the truth. Their troubled 
looks touched Jack, and he tried to cheer them. 

“Samba has not arrived yet, certainly,” he said, “but 
he may not have come direct. Something may have 
taken him out of his course; he would go a long way 
round if he thought it would be of use to us. Don’t, be 

324 


THE RETURN OF LOKOLOBOLO 

worried. He has gone in and out safely so often that 
surely he will come by and by.’’ 

The negroes went away somewhat comforted. But 
Jack felt very anxious, and his feeling was fully shared 
by Barney. 

“ ’Tis meself that fears Elbel has got him,” he said. 
“Pat has been most uncommon restless for two days. He 
looks up in the face uv me and barks, whin he’s not 
wanting anything at all.” 

“ ’Tis only Samba can rightly understand all Pat says, 
and seems to me Pat has got an idea that something has 
happened to Samba.” 

An hour later, Pat also had disappeared. He had 
broken his strap and run away. 


325 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE CHICOTTE 

A small palm, spared for the sake of its welcome shade 
when the rest of the ground was cleared, sheltered 
Monsieur Elbel’s tent from the fiercest rays of the trop- 
ical sun. In the tent Monsieur Elbel, smoking a bad 
Belgian cigar, his camp chair tilted back to a perilous 
angle, his feet on a small, rickety table, read and re-read, 
with a smile of satisfaction, a short, official communi- 
cation that had just reached him from Brussels. Owing 
to the retirement of the Company’s principal agent, and 
in recognition of Monsieur Elbel’s energy in doubling 
tlie consignment of rubber from his district during the 
past year, the Comite had been pleased to appoint Mon- 
sieur Elbel to be administrative chief of the Maranga 
Concession. At the same time the Comite hoped that 
Monsieur Elbel would see his way to deal promptly and 
effectively with the reported outbreak at Ilola, without 
incurring undue expense, and that the American who had 
been giving trouble, and whose patent was now revoked 
(with the concurrence of the State), would be persuaded 
of the necessity of leaving the country. 

Monsieur Elbel was gratified by the news of his pro- 
motion, although it was his due by all the standards 
of conduct set up for the guidance of officials, whether 
State or Trust, charged with the exploitation of Congo 
land. Under no officer had the development of King 
Leopold’s African dominions gone more blithely forward 
than under Monsieur Elbel. Where he and his men 
326 


THE CHICOTTE 


went, they left a wilderness behind them ; but the amount 
of rubber they collected was most gratifying; and Mar^ 
anga stock stood high. True, in twenty years there 
would be no people left in Maranga, even if there were 
rubber to collect. But all that was not his concern; in 
twenty years he would not be in the Congo; those who 
came after him must find their own collectors. He and 
the King took short views ; sufficient unto the day — they 
were both men of business. Yes, as a man of affairs, 
Guillaume Elbel was hard to beat. It was no wonder that 
the Comite had promoted him to the vacant post; if he 
had been passed by, where would be the inducement to 
zeal, to loyal, faithful service? Where indeed? 

In the circumstances. Monsieur Elbel was in good 
humor, a relaxation he rarely allowed himself. He 
drank the remains of his absinthe, tilted his chair back 
to the critical angle, and, blowing a cloud of smoke sky- 
wards, saw in the curling eddies visions of snug direc- 
torates in Brussels. Why not? He flattered himself 
there was none who knew more about the Congo than 
he; he could estimate to a few francs the possibilities of 
any district, as expressed in rubber; and, what is more, 
he knew how to get it. With him the people always lasted 
as long as the rubber. There was no waste; he plumed 
himself on the point. He had never burned a village 
before the rubber was exhausted, whatever might be said 
of other agents. For, after all, his business was to pro- 
mote commerce — that is, collect rubber — not mere destruc- 
tion. And if he did not know his business, there was 
nobody who could teach him. Yes, his Majesty had 
an eye to men of his stamp. A directorate — a few 
directorates — a snug place at Court — who knows? 

Monsieur Elbel again glanced at the official letter, and 
again smiled and blew a ring artistically true. Then 
his eye caught sight of the word '‘expense,'' and his 

327 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


expression changed. This Ilola difficulty would not 
only reduce his rubber consignments; it would mean a 
considerable outlay — how much, he did not like to think. 
And then, there was the column of State troops now on 
its way. No doubt the Concession would have to pay 
for that, too. Peste! if only he could finish this business 
before Van Vorst came up. He did not desire the 
presence of Van Vorst or any other State officer, if it 
could be avoided. For there was gold in the stream, 
without a doubt, and those State officials were greedy 
rascals; they were capable of edging him out — they had 
no scruples — his moral claim would go for nothing, 
absolutely. Yes, the fort must be captured at once, 
before Van Vorst came up. If only he could tap the 
water supply, it would be easy enough. It could be 
done ; the little fool had let out so much ; but how ? — that 
was what he had to find out, and his name was not 
Elbel if he couldn’t do it. 

He rose and went to the door of the tent. A few 
yards away, securely tied to the trunk of the slender 
palm, was a negro boy. Monsieur Elbel looked at him 
critically, as if measuring his strength. Last night, 
although threatened with the chicotte, the boy had 
refused to speak. Only once, when Elbel had offered him 
freedom and rewards if he would point out the source 
of the water in the camp above, did he open his lips, 
saying fiercely, ‘T will never tell you!” — betraying to 
the questioner that he had some knowledge of the secret. 
Now he had had twelve hours of hunger and thirst to 
help him to a more reasonable frame of mind. All night 
the cords had been eating into his wrists and ankles ; he 
was weak from want of food, and consumed with an 
intolerable thirst. He stood there in the blazing sun, a 
listless, pitiable figure, held upright only by the thongs 
that bound his wrists, and as he looked at him. Monsieur 
328 


THE CHICOTTE 


Elbel felt not a little irritated. It was absurd that he 
should be inconvenienced; nay, more, that the develop- 
ment of the Concession should be delayed, and expense 
incurred — avoidable, unnecessary expense — expense with- 
out any return in rubber — all because this slip of a boy 
refused to tell what he knew. 

Elbel beckoned to his servant and interpreter, standing 
close by, attentive and expectant. 

“Tell him,’’ he said, “that I will give him one more 
chance. If he will not speak, he shall be thrashed with 
the chicotte until he does.” 

The man roughly shook the boy by the shoulders and 
translated his master’s words. The captive slowly shook 
his head. _ 

“Fetch the chicotte” said Elbel sharply. “We’ll see 
what that will do.” 

The man entered the tent, where the chicotte invari- 
ably lay ready to hand ; and when he emerged, the space 
in front of Elbel’s quarters was filling with Askari 
and their followers, flocking like vultures to the feast. 
Samba, the son of Mboyo, chief of Banonga, was to be 
whipped. Boloko had caught him last night; he was a 
clever man, Boloko. And Samba knew where the Inglesa 
got the water for his camp ; the secret was to be cut from 
him by the chicotte. That was good; it would be a 
sight to see. 

No time was lost. Elbel signed to the man as he 
approached, and, stepping back, left him a clear space 
to swing the whip. The negro prided himself upon his 
skill; as Elbel’s servant, indeed, he had more opportu- 
nities of perfecting himself with this typical instrument 
of Congo government than falls to most. He could 
deliver a stroke with great delicacy, raising only a long, 
red wale upon the skin, or if the case called for real 

329 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


severity, could cut the offender’s flesh from his body 
almost as neatly as with a knife. 

In this case his master desired information ; it was not 
a mere question of punishing a sullen defaulter. He 
would begin gently, lest the prisoner should lose the 
power of speech and shame the executioner before his 
master and the crowd. A slight convulsive shiver shook 
the boy’s frame as the whip fell, but he clenched his 
teeth and no sound escaped him. The man waited for 
a moment. 

“Will you tell?” 

There was no answer. 

Again the whip rose and fell, this time with a more 
vicious sound, and was answered by a low groan; but 
still to the same question there was no reply. 

By slow degrees, the executioner increased the vigor 
of his stroke. The Askari applauded, and surely he was 
meriting praise from his master, for after many strokes 
the prisoner was quite conscious, as his pallid face and 
staring eyes and clenched teeth clearly showed. And 
besides, did he not writhe and groan with every blow? 

But there is no reckoning with the vagaries of the 
white man. The culprit’s obstinate silence irritated 
Monsieur Elbel more and more as the punishment went 
on. It was intolerable that he should be defied in this 
way. It was a bad example to the natives. Where would 
the white man’s authority be, if this kind of thing were 
permitted? They would lose all respect; the collection 
of rubber would become a farce. Suddenly he blazed 
out in anger, snatched the whip from the hands of his 
servant, and, whirling it round his head, brought it down 
with all his force on the bruised and bleeding form. It 
cut a deep, purple gash in the boy’s back ; but Monsieur 
Elbel’s wrath had come too late; before the lash fell 
Samba had fainted. 


330 


THE CHICOTTE 


Elbel hesitated for a moment ; then, seeing that further 
punishment would be a mere waste of time, he gave a 
curt order. They cut Samba’s cords and carried him 
away. He was to be whipped again to-morrow. 

That afternoon Lepoko came to Jack with a broad grin 
on his face. 

“Mbota come back, sah.” 

“That’s the scout of Massa Barney’s who was cap- 
tured, isn’t it?” 

“Yussah ! He come back, sah. Oh ! it make me laugh 
plenty much. Elobela send Mbota back; he say, ‘You 
go back, cut off Lokolobolo him head. Me gib you 
twenty, fousand, plenty plenty brass rods! Mbota say, 
‘All same, massa. Anything what massa like. Me get 
plenty men who help.’ Den Mbota come back ; he laugh, 
sah ; Elobela plenty big fool fink him lib for hurt 
Lokolobolo.” 

“Bring Mbota to me at once.” 

When the man came, Jack got out of him a more lucid 
story than Lepoko had given. Elbel had promised free- 
dom and large rewards if he would stir up a revolt 
against Jack, or assassinate him. The negro had readily 
promised, with no intention but to reveal the whole 
scheme to his beloved Lokolobolo. 

Jack was still talking to the man when he heard loud 
cries. Running out of his hut, he found Barney clutching 
by the arm a strange negro, thronged about by a shouting 
crowd of the men of Ilombekabasi. 

“Who is he?” 

“ ’Tis wan uv Elbel’s men, sorr. Lianza caught him 
in the forest, and brought him in. The men are simply 
mad to get at him, sorr, especially since they’ve heard 
uv what Elbel said to Mbota.” 

“Leave him to me. I will deal with him.” 


331 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


The men slowly dispersed; Jack took the trembling 
negro to his hut and questioned him. 

“Do you know anything of Samba — the boy from Ba- 
nonga, the nephew of Boloko, one of your forest guards 

Yes, he knew. Was there a man in Elbel’s camp who 
did not know? — who had not exulted when the news 
spread that Samba, the best of Lokolobolo’s scouts, had 
been captured and was to pay the penalty? Surely not 
a man was absent when Samba suffered the torture. Had 
not many of them tried in vain to discover the secret 
which Samba would be forced to betray? 

The scout described to Jack the whole pitiful scene, 
in the glowing language, with the telling, dramatic ges- 
tures, which the negro has at command when he feels 
that his audience is interested. And while the man told 
his story, Jack went hot and cold by turns — cold with 
sheer horror of the scene conjured up by the man’s 
vivid words; hot with a great wrath, a burning, pas- 
sionate desire to seek instant vengeance upon the evil- 
doer. 

Bidding Barney keep the negro carefully under guard, 
he went back to his hut, at the entrance to which Mr. 
Arlington had been anxiously watching the scene. 

“It is devilish, sir,” he burst out. “Elbel not only 
offers rewards for assassinating me, but he uses his 
brutal whip on a boy, to force him to reveal the secret 
of our water supply. Samba is probably half dead — 
brave little fellow ! He fainted under the lash, but would 
not betray us. Think of the agony he must have suffered ! 
And he is only one ; thousands have suffered in the same 
way before him, and are suffering to-day in one part or 
another of this State. Do you blame me now, sir?” 

“No, I don’t blame you. I am deeply sorry for the 
poor boy. The whole thing is an outrage upon human 
nature, so revolting that any action that can be taken 
332 


THE CHICOTTE 


against it is fully justified. I have been thinking over 
what we said the other day. It is not for me to advise ; 
indeed, my friends at home would open their eyes at the 
idea of my abetting resistance to authority; but I will 
give you my opinion. You must hold your fort. While 
the banner of revolt is kept flying, there is always a 
prospect of forcing the hand of the officials in the direc- 
tion of effective reform. They have an enormous area 
to control — a disaffected area seething with indignation 
against bitter wrong. A successful revolt will encourage 
outbreaks elsewhere. If you can only hold out; if you 
can make yourself strong enough here in this remote 
corner to defy the authorities, it will be an opportunity 
of forcing the government to terms — to the granting of 
elementary rights of justice and liberty to its own sub- 
jects, and the throwing open of this sorely-afflicted 
country to free intercourse with the outside world.” 

“Ah! If only I can do it, sir! But I can only hold 
the fort now by striking a blow at Elbel before his rein- 
forcements join him. If the forces unite, they will be 
strong enough to carry on a strict siege. Our food is 
giving out; the people have been for some time on half- 
rations ; they don’t grumble, but it will have to be quarter- 
rations soon, and then the end is not far off. We must 
either surrender or trek.” 

“If you have to trek, it would be better to do so at 
once, while you have food to take your party on your 
way.” 

“Yes, we must either do that or thoroughly beat Elbel. 
That would ease the pressure; the others would think 
twice before attacking us; they might even draw off 
until an overwhelming force could be brought against 
us. That would give time for us to grow more crops, 
and for you to go back to England, sir, and raise your 
voice against this atrocious government.” 

333 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


‘T shall certainly do that. But you talk of fighting 
Elbel; have you thought of the risk?” 

“Till my head aches with thinking. I know that failure 
will mean ruin. It must be a smashing blow ; pin-pricks 
are no good; and I can’t smash him without taking con- 
siderable force out of the fort. If we were obliged to 
retreat, we should be followed up; they might rush the 
fort, and there would be an end of everything.” 

“It is a difficult position. I can’t help you ; I am not 
a soldier — it seems to me you ought to be one, Mr. 
Challoner. I could take no active part, I should in any 
case be little good. I feel that you have landed me in 
a very awkward position,” he added with a smile. “But 
it can’t be helped now; I can only wait and see you go 
through with it.” 

At the back of Jack’s mind there was another con- 
sideration which he did not mention. He could not have 
said how far he allowed it to count. It was the bare 
chance of rescuing Samba — if Samba was still alive. If 
it had been put to him, he would probably not have 
admitted it. The good of the community could not be 
jeopardized by an action on behalf of an individual, 
whatever his claim; the circumstances were too critical. 
But that the fate of Samba was an additional argument 
in favor of the course he was, on other grounds, inclined 
to adopt, there can be no doubt. 

Next day the urgency of the situation was brought 
home to him. Two fires were seen at the appointed spot ; 
Makoko had done his work. Five or six hours later, 
just after nightfall, Makoko himself came in. He re- 
ported that one white man with twenty soldiers in two 
canoes, with many paddlers, had started up river in 
advance of the bulk of the force, which had now reached 
camp at the head of the rapids. Jack guessed that the 
white man was the officer in command, probably the Cap- 
334 


THE CHICOTTE 


tain van Vorst of whom Elbel had spoken, coming ahead 
to view the position and select an encampment for his 
followers. 

About noon on the next day, there was a great sound 
of jubilation from the camp below. Van Vorst, if it 
was he, had arrived. He must have traveled night and 
day, the river route being so much longer than that 
through the forest, that otherwise he could hardly have 
reached the camp in another twelve hours. But his 
paddlers were no doubt pressed men from the riverine 
villages, costing nothing and having no rights, and a 
Congo State commandant, in a hurry, would not hesi- 
tate to drive them. 

In the afternoon a negro, bearing a white flag, was seen 
approaching the fort from the south. He evidently 
expected to be admitted by the hole in the wall. But at 
Jack’s bidding, Lianza, of the brazen throat, called to 
him to come around to the gate on the north; it was 
well to observe due order and ceremony. 

The man brought a note signed Van Vorst, demanding 
the instant surrender of the fort. In reply. Jack wrote 
asking him for assurance that his people, having acted 
throughout in self-defense against the illegalities of the 
Societe Cosmopolite, should be guaranteed liberty to 
depart, and immunity except against the regular legal 
process of the courts. In half an hour the messenger re- 
turned with a curt summons to unconditional surrender. 
Jack sent back a polite refusal, feeling that he had now 
burned his boats. 

Shortly afterwards he saw a party of three white men 
and about twenty State soldiers, all armed with rifles, 
making a tour round the position, keeping carefully under 
cover. Through his field-glass Jack recognized Elbel, 
one of his subordinates, and one of the officers he had 
seen on the steamer. Elbel pointed this way and that with 
335 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


outstretched hand and appeared to be talking with some 
excitement. Occasionally they came within easy range of 
the fort, and Barney begged Jack to let the men fire upon 
them; but Jack resolutely stuck to his determination to 
refrain from provocation. 

The party by and by reached a position above the fort 
near the spot whence the abortive barrel-rolling had been 
started. From this place a small area of the fort inclo- 
sure was open to the view of the enemy. All at once Jack 
saw the strange officer take a rifle from one of the 
soldiers and raise it to his shoulder. Jack instantly 
ordered his men, who were crowding the wall, to drop 
down out of sight. The officer fired; there was a mo- 
ment’s silence; then Jack heard a great yell of rage be- 
hind him. Turning, he saw an old woman lying huddled 
in the center of the inclosure. Two calabashes lay near; 
she had been crossing the exposed portion of the area 
to fetch water from the tank when Van Vorst’s bullei: 
struck her. A shout of delight from the negro soldiers 
up the hill acclaimed the successful shot of their officer; 
the old woman was quite dead. 

Jack went hot with rage. And Mr. Arlington, who 
had witnessed the officer’s action, was stirred out of his 
usual philosophic calm. 

“That is not an act of warfare, Mr. Challoner, but 
of sheer savagery— the act of a callous marksman show- 
ing off. It invites reprisal.” 

“You see how the State treats its subjects, Mr. Ar- 
lington. They have taken cover ; it’s too late to fire, now. 
But it settles the matter for me. The State has fired the 
first shot and killed a non-combatant. I shall do my very 
best this very night to deal the enemy a staggering 
blow.” 


336 


CHAPTER XXIX 


REAPING THE WHIRLWIND 

During the inaction of the last two days, Jack had been 
carefully thinking out his plan. Stout-hearted as he was, 
he felt oppressed by the difficulties of his position. He 
had now four hundred men in all ; scarcely a hundred of 
them were armed with rifles, and not more than fifty prac- 
tised shots. How could he hope to dislodge from a 
stockaded camp more than seven hundred, of whom some 
two hundred and fifty, including Van Vorst’s advance 
guard, were riflemen? It seemed at the best a desperate 
hazard, but the alternative was worse, and, having re- 
solved upon his course, he rejected all half-measures. 
Some few of his own men must be left in the fort, if only 
to prevent a panic; but those must be the minimum; he 
would need every man he could muster. He was staking 
all on the cast of a die ; it would never do to risk failure 
by timorousness in using all his effective combatant 
strength. He would throw his whole available force 
against the enemy in one supreme effort to break and 
scatter him. 

The offensive, he knew, counted for much, especially 
with men who had not known defeat. Where he and 
Barney led he felt sure they would follow. But a check 
might be fatal. A single, well-directed volley from the 
enemy might sweep his little company of riflemen away, 
and his spearmen would then never get to close quarters. 

He gave full weight to all these considerations. But 
having decided that the attempt must be made, he de- 
337 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


voted long hours of anxious thought to the devising of a 
plan that would give the best promise of success. He had 
to do his thinking alone. Barney was a fighter, not a 
strategist. He could be trusted to strike hard and carry 
out orders to the minutest detail; he could not plan or 
organize. Mr. Arlington and the missionary must not be 
consulted. So that when Barney was called into Jack’s 
hut, that afternoon, it was to learn particulars of a 
scheme worked out by Jack alone. When he left it an 
hour or two later, his eyes were glowing with a new light. 
"‘Sure, ’tis me chance that has come at last!” he said 
to himself. 

It was two o’clock in the morning. Ilombekabasi was 
astir. Men and boys were moving this way and that. 
The night was dark, but by the light of the small lamps 
kept burning before a few of the principal huts, it could 
be seen that every face was tense with excitement and a 
subdued energy. In one spot congregated the maimed 
company, armed with such weapons as they could wield. 
Near the southeastern blockhouse, the bulk of the men 
and boys were squatting, rifles and spears lying beside 
them. At the gate in the north wall stood twenty-five 
men, the picked men of the corps, the men whom Lokolo- 
bolo had twice led out to victory. There was Lepoko, 
all smiles and consequence. There was Makoko, hugging 
his rifle as though he loved it. There was Lianza, of the 
brazen throat, and Lingombela, the man of hard bargains, 
and Imbono, the prudent chief of Ilola, and Mboyo, sol- 
emn and silent, thinking of Samba. On the ground lay 
a number of bundles and bales, large and small. 

A group approached the gate from Lokolobolo’s hut, 
Lokolobolo, himself, and Barnio, as the natives called him, 
came first, walking slowly, side by side. Behind came 
Mr. Arlington, his strong features fixed impassively. At 
338 


REAPING THE WHIRLWIND 


his side was the litter of Mr. Dathan, borne by four 
negroes. 

“Is it quite clear?’’ said Jack to Barney. “You have 
twenty good men here, Batukuno in command. All the 
rest will go with you ; yes, let the boys go ; they can use 
their knives, even if they can not throw a spear. Get 
them all paraded an hour before dark, ladder men first. 
Keep them as quiet as you can. Wait till you hear 
shots in the enemy’s camp; that will be the signal. Then 
send your men out, over the stockade by the southeast- 
ern blockhouse ; they can scramble down the slope 
there. You had better take half of them first, and form 
them up at the bottom. The rest can follow as soon as 
they see you move off. Lead them at the double straight 
down the hill and fling them at the stockade. The second 
party will be just in time to support you if the first rush 
is checked. But there must be no check; we daren’t 
admit the possibility. This is your job, Barney.” 

“Amen, sorr. For the honor uv ould Ireland, and the 
sake uv these poor niggers. I’ll do me very best.” 

“I know you will, old fellow.” 

They grip hands, looking into each other’s eyes. 
This may be their last good-by. One long hand-clasp, 
one moment of tense emotion, then, clearing his throat. 
Jack gives an order to his men. They stoop to their 
bundles, then file quietly out of the gate. Each man has 
a package to carry, such a package as forms part of every 
white man’s baggage in Africa, one a trunk, another a 
gun-case, a third a canvas bag, others bales of various 
kinds. Two strong negroes at the end of the line bear, 
slung on ropes, a package, strangely shapeless, and to all 
appearances particularly heavy. 

The last has gone out into the darkness. Then Jack 
turns once more. 

“Good-by, Mr. Arlington.” 

339 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


‘‘Good-by; success to you.” 

“Good-by, Mr, Dathan.” 

“God help you, my dear lad,” says the missionary. 

Then, Jack, too, leaves Ilombekabasi, and the darkness 
swallows him up. 

Towards dusk on the following evening, a party of 
twenty-five carriers were marching through the forest 
in the direction of Elbel’s stockaded camp. In the midst 
were four men carrying a litter. They followed the path 
leading from the river — the path along which Captain 
van Vorst had come a few days earlier. For some time 
they had been shadowed by a negro, bearing the arms of 
a forest guard. They paused for a few moments to rest, 
and the negro, apparently satisfied by his observations, 
came up and accosted them. 

“You are the servants of Mutela?” 

“Yes, that is so. Has Mutela arrived?” 

-Mutela was the native name for Van Vorst. 

“Oh, yes ! He came two or three days ago.” 

“Are we on the right road ?” 

“Certainly. The camp is but a little way beyond us. 
I will lead you to it. You have heavy loads,” 

“Ah! Mutela is a man of riches. He has many pots 
and many bottles, and very many coats for his back. And 
guns, too; see, here is his elephant rifle. Mutela is a 
great hunter; a great man of war.” 

“True, he is a great man of war. Yesterday he killed 
a woman in the fort of the Inglesa. I saw it. I laughed ; 
we all laughed; it was so funny! but who is in the 
litter?” 

“A white officer. Oh, yes ! He is as great a man of 
war as Mutela. But he is sick ; white men so easily turn 
sick! And he sleeps, although it is a rough road.” 

“Aha! It is a pity he is sick. Mutela will be sorry. 
Mutela is going to kill all the men in the Inglesa’s fort. 

340 


REAPING THE WHIRLWIND 


Lokolobolo, they call him. Aha ! we shall see how strong 
he is ! See, there is the camp, yonder, among the trees.’* 
When the party were still within some yards of the 
gate, the scout gave a hail. It was answered by a negro, 
whose face appeared just above the stockade. By the 
time the leading men reached the gate, it had been thrown 
open by one of Elbel’s European subordinates, and a 
crowd of negro soldiers and hangers-on was collected to 
witness the entrance of the white officer and Mutela’s 
baggage. 

Lepoko, who had led the file, deposited his bundle just 
inside the gate and burst into a roar of laughter, holding 
his sides and bending his body in uncontrollable mirth. 
He was soon surrounded by a crowd of negroes, to whom 
he began to relate a very funny story; how Ekokoli, the 
daring Ekokoli, had mounted a crocodile’s back, just 
below the rapids, and had a splendid ride. The comical 
story set the throng laughing in chorus, and they begged 
to hear it again. Meanwhile, the rest of the carriers had 
filed in with their burdens, the litter had been set down, 
and the white officer, though so sick, stepped out quite 
briskly, to greet the Belgian, whose attention was divided 
between the laughing negroes and his guest. At the same 
time, the four litter-bearers drew out from it a rifle apiece 
— for a sick man, rifles surely made an uncomfortable 
couch! — and also half a dozen objects which, to a man 
of Ilombekabasi, would have looked suspiciously like 
fire balls. From the packages which lay near the gate, 
each of the other carriers, with a single pull, abstracted a 
Mauser or an Albini ; while the two men who had stag- 
gered along at the end of the line under the weight of 
a clumsy, heavy bundle, dropped it in the gateway with 
a thud that suggested the fall of a rock, rather than a 
carrier’s ordinary load. It lay against the gate, prevent- 
ing it from being closed. 


341 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Lepoko was already telling his story for the second 
time. Elbel’s officer, about to speak to the sick white 
man who had just stepped out of the litter, suddenly hesi- 
tated, wheeled round, and, with a loud cry of alarm, 
rushed towards the center of the camp, where, in a large 
tent, Elbel was at that moment regaling Captain van 
Vorst with a dinner that did much credit to his native 
cook. His cry passed unnoticed by the delighted negroes 
whom Lepoko was so humorously entertaining. But 
next moment they choked their guffaws, and, without 
waiting for the end of the story, scampered with more 
speed than grace after their white officer towards Elo- 
bela’s tent. What had started them ? The sick man from 
the litter, after one glance round, had suddenly fired into 
the air the rifle he carried. And the carriers, who seemed 
so tired, and so glad to lay down their burdens, had all at 
once sprung into feverish activity. Dividing into two 
parties, they had disappeared behind the huts nearest to 
the stockade on each side of the gateway, and if the hub- 
bub had not been so great, an attentive listener might 
have heard sundry scratches that ensued upon their 
disappearance. But there was no one to hear. The 
garrison of the camp were rushing still towards the 
center with loud cries; the carriers and the sick officer 
were no longer to be seen; and, what was this? — clouds 
of smoke, thick, acrid, suffocating, were floating on the 
south wind from the huts towards Elobela’s tent. 

And now the camp was in an uproar. Mingled with 
the yells of alarm were distinct cries, ‘‘MutelaT" “Elo- 
bela!” ‘‘Lokolobolo And amid all the din, came, ever 
and anon, the sharp, piercing bark of a dog. 

Monsieur Guillaume Elbel, of the Societe Cosmopolite 
du Commerce dii Congo, had just opened' a second bottle 
of madeira for the delectation of his guest. Captain van 
342 


REAPING THE WHIRLWIND 


Vorst, of the Congo State forces. The dinner had been 
a good one; the captain had praised his cook, the best 
cook in the Congo; and Monsieur Elbel was in better 
humor than he had been since the arrival of the State 
troops. He was even pleasantly boasting of the coming 
triumph at Ilombekabasi, and discussing what they should 
do with the Englishman when they caught him, when 
sounds from outside so startled him that he poured the 
wine on to the tablecloth, instead of into the glass, and 
interrupted himself with the sudden exclamation : 

"WhaCs that?” 

He snatched up a rifle and hurried out, followed more 
slowly by his companion, who had seen too many camp 
quarrels to be greatly alarmed by this sudden outbreak. 
Elbel at first could distinguish nothing in the confusion. 
The short dusk of a tropical evening was already becom- 
ing darkness, but he could see that crowds of men were 
pouring out of the huts, rushing, hustling, in a state that 
was very like panic. And a pungent smoke saluted his 
nostrils ; it was drifting in great whirls northwards over 
the camp, and surely behind it he saw, here and there, 
little red flashes of flame. 

Who had fired that shot which had so shaken Monsieur 
Elbel’s hand? He did not know; it had been a single 
shot; surely the camp could not be attacked, for other 
shots would have followed long' before this. But the 
moment he appeared outside the tent, a volley rang out, 
and Elbel saw that it was fired by his own men into the 
midst of the smoke. He was hurrying across the camp 
to inquire into the meaning of all this, when a volley 
flashed from the other direction — from the very heart of 
the smoke. Shrieks proclaimed that some of the shots 
had told. “Fools!” cried Elbel. “Don’t you see they’re 
screened by the smoke, whoever they are? What’s the 

343 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


good of firing when you can’t take aim? Curse that 
dog ! I can’t hear myself speak.” 

Another volley flashed from the smoke. Men were 
dropping on every side ; there were wild rushes for cover. 
Soon the central space was deserted, and the panic- 
stricken garrison fled for shelter behind the huts on the 
north side of the camp. While Elbel and Van Vorst were 
shouting themselves hoarse in a vain attempt to stem this 
tide of flight, the sergeant who had opened the gate had 
rushed to the north side, where Van Vorst’s contingent 
were quartered, and hastily got them into some sort of 
order, together with those of Elbel’s men who, having 
their huts on that side, had been less affected by the sud- 
den alarm. Dividing the company of about a hundred 
men into two parties, he sent them skirmishing forward 
between the intervals of the huts towards the enemy he 
supposed to be approaching on the east and west. 

That enemy, however, was not approaching. Jack 
had fired the huts and thrown the camp into confusion; 
his little party was not strong enough to turn the con- 
fusion into utter rout. Its smallness would be perceived 
if he led it into the open ; his was a waiting game. The 
wisdom of his policy was soon proved. A sharp volley 
came from the men whom the Belgian sergeant had got 
together. Jack heard the man beside him groan heavily 
and fall to the ground; then he himself felt a stinging, 
burning pain below the left knee. He called to his men 
to keep within cover, and hastily bound a handkerchief 
about the wound. And now the wind dropped, and the 
smoke, which had hitherto screened his movements, 
floated upwards. A scattering volley from the enemy 
reduced his band by two more men. The State troops 
were working round on each side of him, and the red 
glare from the burning huts was lighting up the whole 
344 


REAPING THE WHIRLWIND 


camp. It would soon be seen how small his little com- 
pany was ; then one determined rush would annihilate it. 

Less than four minutes had passed since he en- 
tered the gate. It seemed an age. Would Barney never 
come? Why was he delaying? Surely he had heard 
the signal shot ; surely by this time he must have seen the 
ruddy glare ! The enemy were regaining confidence ; 
their cries of alarm were changed to yells of defiance. 
Elbel and Van Vorst had taken command, one on each 
side; each was steadily moving down from the northern 
stockade towards the gate. Barney, Barney, are you 
never coming? 

Hark! What is that? The cries of the enemy are 
suddenly drowned in a babel of yells behind them. They 
halt, amazed ; Van Vorst shouts an order ; the men wheel 
round and dash northwards, leaving only a few to watch 
the rear. The Belgian sees, now, the meaning of this 
daring scheme. What has he to gain by routing the 
little band behind? Before him is pandemonium; a 
whole host must be upon him; here is the danger to be 
met. 

But he is too late! “Lokolobolo! Lokolobolo!” Two 
hundred voices roar the name. And Lokolobolo himself, 
through the spaces between the huts, sees a portion of 
the northern stockade black with moving figures, rifle- 
barrels, spear-heads, gleaming red in the light of the 
flaming huts. Towards him rushes the greater part of 
the garrison, their first fright trebled. These guards of 
the forest can fight unarmed, despairing rubber collectors, 
but their hearts are as water when the villagers prove 
to be men. Let the men in uniform, the clad soldiers 
of Bula Metadi, fight if they will; this is no place for 
forest guards ; the gate ! the gate ! 

Van Vorst's handful of more disciplined men present a 
bolder front to the enemy. But it would need many times 
345 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


the number he can muster to break the wave of exultant 
warriors now swarming over the stockade. There is 
Barney! Jack sees him drop to the ground, brandishing 
in one hand a rifle, an ancient cutlass in the other. ‘‘Hur- 
roo I Hurroo I” he shouts. A second, no more, and then 
the crest of the wave breaks over the stockade into the 
camp. 

“Barnio! Lokolobolo with a great roar the men of 
Ilombekabasi follow their leader. They are already 
sweeping the garrison like sea-wrack before them, when 
another wave comes tumbling behind, the shrill cries of 
boys mingling with the deeper shouts of the men. See, 
they come, furiously, irresistibly ! The enemy fire once ; 
then, though Van Vorst may rave and storm, they turn 
their backs and flee helter-skelter for the gate. “Lokolo- 
bolo 1 Barnio 1” The tempestuous war-cries pursue them. 
Struggling, yelling, they converge to the narrow gate- 
way. It is jammed, wedged tight with human forms, 
squeezed by the pressure of the frantic crowd behind 
into a solid mass of feebly struggling wretches, lost to all 
consciousness but that of a great fear. The weaker men 
fall and are trampled to death; the stronger push and 
pull, and scramble over the fallen, mad with fright. 
Some win through or over and rush with blind haste 
into the forest. Others, despairing of escape by that one 
constricted outlet, climb the palisade. Some impale 
themselves on the sharp-pointed stakes, and, hapless ben- 
efactors! serve as gangways for their comrades who 
follow. 

Seeing the utter rout of the enemy. Jack had already 
ordered his men to cease fire. His end was gained; he 
had no lust for useless slaughter. But although Makoko 
and Lingombela and the rest with him loyally obeyed, 
nothing could check the storming party. They heard 
nothing, saw nothing, but the enemy in front. Not one 

346 


REAPING THE WHIRLWIND 


of them but had a father, a mother, a wife or a child 
to avenge ; a ruined home ; a blasted life. As well attempt 
to bridle the whirlwind as stem this infuriate flood. On 
and on they pressed past the spot where Jack held his 
men in leash; and as they ran, they shot and stabbed, 
yelling “Barnio! Lokolobolo and as they were accus- 
tomed to receive no mercy, so now, in this hour of retri- 
bution, they gave none. 

As Jack made his way towards the gateway, hoping 
to do something to insure quarter for the fleeing 
wretches, he caught sight of a figure crawling painfully 
forth from a burning hut. At one moment he recognized 
the man, and the man him. 

“Nando!” he cried. ^ 

“Sabe me, massa !” 

“Get away to the other end — wait for me there. Any 
other men in the hut?” 

“No, massa, no ! only me 1” 

But as he turned to run, Jack heard the bark which 
ever and anon had struck his ears during these full 
minutes, and felt a tug at his coat. The cloth, already 
tattered, gave way, but Pat caught his trousers, then ran 
a little way ahead, then back again, then once more to- 
wards the burning hut. Tearing off his coat. Jack 
wrapped it round his head and dashed in. The smoke was 
so dense that nothing could be seen save here and there 
spurts of flame. Scarcely able to breathe. Jack flung him- 
self on the ground and began to grope round the right 
of the hut. By and by his hands touched a human body, 
and then the shaggy coat of the terrier. Lifting the body 
in both arms, he staggered with it to the entrance, guided 
by the dog’s barks. He gasped and drew long breaths 
when once again he came into the open air ; but as he laid 
his burden upon the ground, he stumbled and fell beside 
it, sick and dizzy. 


347 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


He was unconscious but for a few moments. When 
he came to himself and sat up, he saw that Samba lay 
in his father’s arms. Mboyo was sobbing, rocking his 
body to and fro, murmuring endearing words. Pat was 
stretched beside him, his eyes fixed on Samba, his ears 
pricked forward. 

“He dies, O Lokolobolo!” said Mboyo piteously, see- 
ing Jack rise. 

“No, no! Get water! Take him to the other end of 
the camp. I will come to you when I can.” 

Jack hurried off. Many of the huts were blazing; now 
that the fire had done its part, it must be checked or the 
stores and ammunition, which would be invaluable in 
Ilombekabasi, would be destroyed. Collecting such of 
the men as had not dashed out of the camp in pursuit of 
the enemy. Jack set them to beat out the flames where 
they could, and to demolish one or two of the still unburnt 
huts that were most in danger of catching fire. Luckily 
the wind had dropped; there was little risk of sparks or 
cinders flying through the air. 

Then he set some of the boys to making torches, for the 
dusk had deepened into darkness, and by their light he 
surveyed the camp. He shuddered as he passed over the 
scene of the disastrous flight and pursuit. The forms of 
dead and wounded lay scattered over the ground. Jack 
ordered Nando and others of Mr. Martindale’s carriers 
who had been left in the camp to attend the wounded as 
well as they were able, and sternly forbade the despatch- 
ing of those of the enemy who were still alive, but unable, 
through injuries, to escape. Then he went towards the 
gate. It was with a shock that he saw, amid the black 
bodies crushed to death in the gateway, the white-clad 
form of Van Vorst. In that terrible struggle for prece- 
dence the white man’s skin had not saved him. But he 
was the only European left in the camp. Jack looked 
348 



Lifting the body he staggered with it to the entrance Pa^e 



• V;> 




I. s* ♦-- 


<r.-- "•:•" -i 

. - » ♦.' 1 "■ .— r • 

. ^ >pf 5 . c** 

• », ^ •- ,'<'- .* 

— 1 — ---■ • ^ ' 

• •*.* ** - • ' .‘'* , ^ 


<« i 

> /y 


r> 

•r 

AT 




* ■ ' 



. • . * • ^ , - 

* ' 'w- - -I* I V 

- •.. A-' 

^ , -■.' ^ -'- . ^ * if ':* - '- 'T 


;.., .iJier 



•/, 



•• 


I 



> J * • -r* '^*'** V - . .. - .-■•r ” • ‘c* 

< .•-.’ ^■•.■* --' •,'■•'•. - '. •-• ^ --j -v ^ 

■■'' - ■ ■- ^ ■'^ j '- ■'!/- • ■-'■■ - ' ■■•’ '■■ ^^•'■..-1 ■'*■ 

^ i» '■•*{* -r.*' ' T- -kr 

f-' --'-i ^ . ^ y \ji= j. 

■ ^ -f ■..- r,.. ,, 

• ' :* •«• I . : . ' :v r- - ri-, *;"■•> . ; 


* , ^ 




-sr. 


r" ^ . 


« ' 

, j 


J. ' ^ 1 *,. • , • . . ^ jC ■ ^ ‘ ' ' “. * 

: •• • -u- -., '. • ■" - •% ii 

- -v ' . " • ft ’•'*%. •' ’■*‘''4 

■ - * . • ■ , /• '‘^v • • ^ ,‘4v 

- / ■ / '-i • - . • - 



.J '. ,7 • ‘ , • • r 

• r*,f ;*<• .' ; 

: HI..'-.- 


-. /■• ^ V 5 - V- V - ■ 


•v ■ 


!?■ 


f 

V « . 




• •% 


- 

>•■«. 't. .-• 



V' 



^ • - t- ^ ‘ * . ^ 


. - ^ 

bL 

'■' * EHQ 

M 

*\j| 


‘ <f 

• ' ; 

- * • “ 

> 


■<i' '* 

'^aV i . 

A ^ w 

V;, 'A r 

W ^ .k 

-. / 'J 

^ . 

♦f* fife" 

. • -i 'T/ 


■i 

• , 






^ ’ *. ■ ** * - -w ‘ 

'-■ • \ ' ' X S VJ ■ / .'•. 



REAPING THE WHIRLWIND 


for Elbel and his subordinate, but they were nowhere to 
be seen. 

Complete darkness had settled over the country, and 
put a stop to the pursuit. Jack’s men began to return, 
at first in ones and twos, by and by in groups that grew 
larger as the night drew on. They came laughing and 
singing; once more Elobela, even aided by Mutela, had 
been beaten by Lokolobolo. What a night it was for the 
men of Ilombekabasi ! And Barnio! — was it not Barnio 
who had led them to the stockade with that wild war-cry 
of his? They must not forget Barnio! And Lianza 
made a song as he marched back to the camp : 

Barnio ! Barnio ! 

Down from the fort. 

From Ilombekabasi, 

Dashed in the night. 

Sought Elobela, 

Cruel Mutela. 

Hurroo 1 Hurroo ! ^ 

Barnio leads. 

After him black men. 

Hundreds and thousands, 

Sweep like the wind, 

Rage like the torrent, 

Over the wall. 

Hurroo ! Hurroo ! 

Big clouds of smoke. 

Forest of flame. 

Into the midst, 

Barnio ! Barnio ! 

Over the wall, 

Into the camp, 

Straight for the gate 
Barnio rushes. 

After him black men. 

Hurroo! In the gate 
Thousands of black men. 

Only one white man. 

Cruel Mutela. 

349 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Ha ! He will never, 

Never whip black men, 
Never kill women, 

Never kill children. 

Never laugh, never. 

Mutela is dead! 

Why do we sing? 

Why do we laugh? 

Whom do we praise? 
Barnio ! Barnio I 
Lokolobolo ! 

Friends of Imbono, 
Friends of the black men, 
Of Ilombekabasi, 

Hurroo ! Begorra ! 


350 


CHAPTER XXX 


SINEWS OF WAR 

Barney came back to the camp tired out. Following 
up the only party that seemed to have cohesion after leav- 
ing the fort— a party led by the Belgian sergeant — he 
had soon found himself left far behind in the race. But 
his men had done their work thoroughly; they had dis- 
persed the band, but few of whom escaped. 

“ Twas for this I was born, sorr,’’ said Barney, as he 
gripped Jack’s hand. ‘‘Sure, I’ll be a fighter foriver 
now.” 

“You did splendidly, old fellow. I knew all was well 
when I heard your hurroo! But there are five hundred 
men roaming the country and only a score of able-bodied 
men in our fort. We must look after that. Get fifty 
fellows together and send them back under Imbono, 
Barney.” 

“And what’ll ye be afther doing yourself, sorr?” 

“Oh! I’m going down to the river. The job’s only 
half done while that flotilla is intact. I’m going to have 
a shot at it before the enemy get over their fright. I’ll 
take a couple of hundred men with me. You’ll keep a 
hundred and move all the stores and ammunition here 
to the fort ; get the women and children to help ; you can 
light the way with flares. When the camp’s empty, burn 
it. And look after Samba, Barney; he’s here, nearly 
dead, poor little chap. Mboyo’s got him; we’ll go and 
see how he is getting on.” 

Making their way to the north side of the camp, they 
3S1 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


found Samba laid on the floor of a hut, his father on one 
side of him, Pat on the other. The dog leaped up ex- 
citedly when he saw his master, and invited him with 
a yelp to come and see Samba. By the light of a torch 
Barney tenderly examined the boy. He was conscious 
and smiled, even though he winced under the gentlest of 
touches. 

“Ochone ! Ochone !’^ exclaimed Barney. ’Tis the 
divil’s own work, sorr. His poor flesh is wan jelly. By 
all the holy powers, if I catch that murdering ruff’n uv a 
fellow, that Elbel! And Fve no ointment, at all, at all. 
Bedad ! but now I remimber, Mr. Arlington has a whole 
doctor’s shop in one uv his traps, and if he hasn’t got 
boracic ointment among his stuff, sure. I’ll think a mighty 
deal less uv him. ’Twill take a month or more, sorr, 
to heal all the wounds on his poor body ; but we’ll do it, 
plase God ! and make a man uv him yet.” 

“He dies, O Lokolobolo?” said Mboyo, looking up 
yearningly into Jack’s face. 

“No, Barnio says no. He is very ill, but in a month he 
will be well, and Barnio says he is going to make a man 
of him.” 

''Bolotsi 0! Bolotsi OT cried the negro, slapping his 
thighs. '‘N'dok'olo aiyoko!” ^ 

He laughed and clapped his hands like a child. 

“It was Pat that showed me where Samba was,” said 
Jack to Barney. “Nando was tied up in a hut with him — 
he must have been captured with dear old uncle — and the 
wretch saved himself by burning his ropes through and 
left Samba to perish in the flames. Pat dragged me to 
the spot.” 

“The darlint is worth his weight in gold,” cried Bar- 


^ Now I am well. 


352 


SINEWS OF WAR 


ney, delighted. “That’s twice he has saved Samba, sorr. 
Black men and white men are brothers, or ought to be, 
and there’s niver a doubt that dogs are cousins at the 
very least. And beggin’ your pardon, sorr. I’ll take a 
pleasure in kicking Nando whin I get a look uv him. 
’Tis a little military discipline he needs, to be sure.” 

“You can give him that in the fort. And, by the way, 
you’ll find a lot of rifles here; the enemy either hadn’t 
time to get hold of them or else threw them away. Arm 
some of our spearmen ; they can tell the muzzle from the 
stock at any rate, and if any attempt is made to rush the 
fort they could do a good deal of damage at close quar^ 
ters; and keep scouts out. We don’t know the exact 
whereabouts of Van Vorst’s main body, and it won’t do 
to risk anything. But I hope you won’t have any 
trouble.” 

Bidding Barney farewell. Jack called up Makoko and 
Lingombela, and sent them out with orders to discover 
the exact position of the flotilla, and to return at day- 
break. An hour afterwards, with a hundred and fifty 
picked spearmen, sixty rifles, and a body of carriers with 
food for three days, he began a night march to the river. 
He himself was unable to walk. His wound was be- 
coming more and more painful, but he had said nothing 
about it to Barney, being resolved not to spare himself 
while anything remained to be done to complete his 
work. Four men, relieved at frequent intervals, carried 
him in the litter of which he had made such effective use 
to gain an entrance to the enemy’s camp. This time, he 
thought with a smile, there was no pretense about it. 

He guessed that Van Vorst’s flotilla would be found 
about half-way between Ilola and the spot where Mr. 
Martindale’s canoes had been hidden. It was one day’s 
march across country, a much longer distance by the 
river. For some hours he followed the path on which 
353 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


his uncle and he had been escorted by the Askari. The 
recollection of that march brought sad thoughts to his 
mind. Lying in the litter amid his men, as the column 
wound its slow way along the forest track, the red glare 
of their torches throwing weird shadows around, he had 
plenty of time for melancholy reflections. The incidents 
of his uncle’s last days were burned into his memory. He 
remembered the drawn, wasted features, now pale with 
exhaustion, now bright with the hectic flush of fever; 
the quick, uneasy breath; the slow, laboring voice. He 
remembered the tale of persecution and wrong. More 
than all, he remembered the earnest, passionate words 
in which the dying man had bequeathed to him the cause 
of the Congo natives, and besought him to use his ut- 
most strength in their behalf. “Dear old uncle,” he 
thought ; “I am trying to do what you would have wished 
me to do. I can’t do much; this is only a small cornet* 
of the plague-ridden country; how many thousands of 
poor people are without even such help as I can give! 
But it will be something if only the few hundreds in 
Ilombekabasi can regain and keep a little of their for- 
mer happiness ; and uncle would be pleased ; he is pleased, 
if he knows.” 

Then the other side of the picture stood out sharply 
to his mental view. He saw the fleeing crowds of the 
enemy; the jammed gateway; the camp inclosure strewn 
with dead and wounded. Once or twice, even, his march- 
ing column came upon wounded men, too weak to crawl 
away into the bush; and he could do nothing for them. 
This terrible loss of life, this misery, was this, too, not 
due to the evil government of a monarch who, far away, 
in wealth and luxury and ease, spoke with two voices, 
one the voice of beneficence, benignity, zeal for peace and 
good order; the other the voice of greed, avarice, the 
callous demand for riches even at the price of blood? 


354 


SINEWS OF WAR 


*^Botofe bo le iwa! Rubber is death!” — the woeful prov- 
erb haunted him like a knell : death to the dwellers in 
this well-favored land ; death to the minions of the power 
that oppressed them; death to those who, like his uncle, 
dared to make a stand for freedom and found themselves 
engulfed in the whirlpool of injustice and wrong. 

As Jack approached the river, these gloomy thoughts 
gave way to the necessities of the moment. Lepoko, 
leading the column, announced that the river was very 
near. Then Jack ordered the torches to be put out, and 
the men to creep forward even more silently than they 
had already done. Had news of the storming of the 
camp been carried, he wondered, by fugitives to the 
flotilla? Since they had left the direct path to the river 
and struck obliquely towards it there had been no sign 
of fugitives. He supposed that the scared enemy had 
kept to the route they knew, and would follow the river 
bank until they reached the canoes. This involved many 
extra miles through the winding of the stream, unless 
the flotilla had come farther up than he thought was 
likely. 

The principal danger was that some of Elbel’s scouts, 
knowing the country better than the majority of the gar--* 
rison, might already have taken the short cut Jack was 
now taking and would reach the flotilla before him. There - 
were two white officers in charge; they might set off at 
once to the relief of their superior and reach the fort 
while Jack was still absent. Would Barney be strong 
enough to hold out against them ? 

The march was continued with brief rests throughout 
the night. Shortly after dawn, a man sprang panting 
out of the brushwood to the right of the path, and hur- 
ried to Jack’s litter. 

“O Lokolobolo 1” he cried, 'T have news 1” 

Jack saw that it was Lofundo, sub-chief of Akumbi. 

355 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


‘Tt was in the smoke and the flame, Lokolobolo. I saw 
Elobela, with fear on his face, climb over the fence and 
run into the night. After him I sprang — I, and Bolum- 
bu, and Noko, and the others. It was Elobela, the cruel, 
the pitiless! after him, into the night; but first Noko 
tired, then Bolumbu, then the others. I, Lofundo, did 
not tire ; no ; was it not Elobela, whose men ill-used and 
slew my people and burnt my village, and who with his 
own hand flogged my son? I ran, and ran, hot on his 
trail, and in the morning light I came up with him and 
saw him with fear in his face; and I had my knife; and 
now Elobela is dead, yonder, in the forest.’’ 

“Is it far, Lofundo?” 

“A little march in the forest, Lokolobolo.” 

Jack had himself carried to the spot. Beneath a tree, 
covered with felled branches and leaves to protect it from 
beasts, lay the stark body of Guillaume Elbel. Jack could 
not help pitying the wretch whose zeal in an evil cause 
had brought him to an end so miserable. But as he 
thought of the misery this man had caused — the ruined 
homes, the devastated lives ; as he remembered his uncle, 
lying in a lonely grave, and Samba, lacerated by this 
man’s cruel whip, pity froze within him. 

“Cover him up!” he said. 

He waited while his men buried Elbel, there, at the 
foot of the tree. 

“Let us go !” he said. “We have work to do.” 

When Jack’s column, according to Lepoko, was still 
an hour’s walk from the river, Lingombela, one of the 
advance scouts, came back with a negro in his grasp. 
He had captured him, said Lingombela, as he was run- 
ning from the river into the forest. Jack questioned the 
man through Lepoko. He said that his name was Ban- 
doka, and he had been a paddler in Mutela’s flotilla, and 
had suffered many times from the chicotte; he showed 
356 


SINEWS OF WAR 


the marks on his back. Just after daybreak several men 
had come rushing madly into the clearing on the river- 
bank where the soldiers of Bula Matadi had halted for 
the night. There was great confusion in the camp. He 
had heard it said among the paddlers that there had been 
a fight up the river at the Inglesa’s fort and that the men 
of Elbel had been badly beaten. The paddlers had al- 
ready heard the name of Lokolobolo. The fugitives said 
that Mutela was sorely in need of help. The white officer 
had at once started up the river in swift canoes, with 
most of the fighting men, leaving the rest with the car- 
riers and stores to follow. In the confusion attending 
the departure of the force with three days’ stores Ban- 
doka had contrived to slip away into the forest. He 
would rather brave anything than endure further service 
with Bula Matadi. 

Jack’s first thought on hearing this news was that it 
simplified his position. The Congo officers had two days’ 
journey before them; it was strange if he, with his 
lightly-equipped force of men thoroughly acquainted 
■with the country, knowing the short cut through the for- 
est, the fordable places on the river, could not do much 
to impede and harass their advance. But on subsequent 
reflection a still bolder course suggested itself to him. 
Was it possible to cut off the main body from its stores? 
The fighting men under their white commander had al- 
ready started up the river ; the stores would follow more 
slowly, Jack’s line of march would strike the river at a 
point between the two portions of the enemy’s force. If 
he could capture the stores, would he not have the main 
body at his mercy ? 

“How many fighting men were left to escort the 
canoes?” he asked. 

“Him say no can tell. He run away plenty soon; 
plenty much noise, all talk one time.” 

357 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 

In the absence of precise information Jack could only 
conjecture. The news brought by the fugitive from El- 
bel’s camp was such that a force despatched in support 
would probably consist of at least two-thirds of the avail- 
able combatant strength. The officer must be aware that 
a body of men that could defeat Elbel with his seven 
hundred mixed troops could scarcely be met with less 
than two hundred and fifty rifles. No doubt he would 
expect to be joined by some of Elbel’s men; the full 
magnitude of the disaster would hardly be known; and, 
like any other white commander, he would be inclined to 
discount the alarmist reports of the fugitives. It would 
be safe to assume, thought Jack, that not more than a 
hundred rifles had been left with the stores. How many 
of the paddlers were also fighting men, how many im- 
pressed like Bandoka, it was impossible to guess. 

“Bandoka is sure the white officers are not coming 
through the forest?” he asked, as the bare chance of 
meeting them occurred to him. 

“Sartin sure, massa. Dey come in boats. Bandoka he 
fit to paddle in white man’s canoe. ‘No, no,’ he say; 
‘me not like dat. White man lib for go too fast; me 
know what dat mean; dat mean chicotte!' Den he run 
away, sah.” 

“Well, I wish I knew a little more about the men with 
the stores.” 

“Know plenty more one time,” said Lepoko, pointing 
ahead. “Dat am Makoko.” 

Makoko, a scout in a thousand, had brought the news 
Jack most desired. He had counted the fighting men on 
the canoes ; there were a hundred and ten with rifles and 
more than two hundred with spears. On each cargo 
canoe there was a rifleman — to encourage the paddlers, 
thought Jack. The flotilla had just started when he left 
the river, at least two hours after the main body had 
358 


SINEWS OF WAR 


left. One white officer had gone with the swift canoes, 
a second remained with the stores. The line of boats 
was headed by two large war canoes, each containing 
twenty riflemen besides the paddlers; and two similar 
canoes, similarly manned, brought up the rear. 

It was clear to Jack that the enemy was doing every- 
thing possible to hasten progress. But the canoes were 
heavily laden, and the paddlers had the stream against 
them. Meanwhile, Barney must be warned of the ap- 
proaching expedition. Jack was in no anxiety about the 
fate of the fort. Behind the walls Barney’s hundred and 
twenty riflemen and three times as many spearmen could 
easily hold their own. The enemy’s machine gun, a 
deadly weapon in the open, would be of little use against 
stone walls. So, confident in Barney’s ability to sit tight, 
Jack sent Lingombela back through the forest to give 
him timely notice of the troops coming towards him by 
the river. 

The arrangements made by the officer in charge of the 
convoy of stores, as reported by Makoko, were well 
enough adapted for progress through a country in which 
the natives, even if hostile, were armed only with bows 
and arrows or spears. By keeping in mid stream the 
canoes were practically out of range from the banks; 
and an enemy on the water could be effectively dealt with 
by the leading canoes, carrying a strong force of rifle- 
men armed with Albinis. A similar force acting as a 
rear guard discouraged any tendency on the part of the 
- crews of the store boats to bolt down-stream. And each 
canoe had a forest guard ready with a chicotte to stim- 
ulate the paddlers’ zeal. 

Jack felt sure that by setting an ambush at a suitable 
point he could produce a panic among the guards and 
paddlers almost as effectual for his purpose as the panic 
in Elbel’s camp. But he had a not unnatural shrinking 
359 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


from such a course. An ambuscade — concealing one- 
self to shoot another man down— went against the grain 
with him. He knew that it was fair by all the rules of 
warfare, and warfare had been thrust upon him by the 
State troops. But he preferred, if possible, to attain his 
end by other means, involving the minimum of bloodshed 
and suffering. The scenes in Elbel’s camp and in the 
forest were too fresh in his memory for him to court a 
repetition of this wholesale destruction, even of the 
savage who wore the uniform of King Leopold. 

The disposition of the enemy’s forces suggested a plan 
whereby his end might be gained with little or no serious 
fighting. If the plan failed, there still remained the al- 
ternative of an attack in force on the long-drawn-out 
line of the flotilla. 

He had noticed, when coming up the river to Ilola 
with his uncle, that, about half a day’s paddling from the 
flotilla’s point of departure, the channel was divided by a 
small island. Only on the near side was the river navi- 
gable at this season, even by canoes. On the other side 
the channel was wide, but shallow, thickly beset by sand- 
banks. By striking to the left and taking a short cut 
through the forest known to Makoko, the river-bank op- 
posite this island could be reached in two hours’ hard 
marching. There would still be a good margin of time 
to make all necessary arrangements for carrying out his 
plan before the head of the convoy came into view. The 
men had already had a couple of hours’ rest; the worst 
of their fatigue after the night march was gone; there 
was now no time to be lost, and Jack gave the order to 
move off under Makoko’s lead. 

Before midday the troops were halted opposite the 
island, a lozenge-shaped ait about a third of a mile in 
length and a hundred yards across, covered with rank 
vegetation and patched with one or two clumps of large 
360 


SINEWS OF WAR 


trees. On reaching the spot, Jack left his litter to super- 
intend the men’s work, in spite of his stiff leg. He 
posted scouts in each direction, up and down the river, 
to guard against surprise, then set the men to cut a large 
number of tough creepers which abounded in the forest, 
and by twisting and knotting the tendrils, to make a 
rope about eighty yards long. While this was being done 
with marvelous speed by the expert negroes, a few sap- 
lings were uprooted and lashed together to form a raft, 
too slight indeed for serious navigation, but strong 
enough to convey a few men at a time across the river. 
When the rope was finished one end was taken across to 
the ait and firmly secured to one of the large trees. The 
other end was left for the present loose. The place where 
the rope entered the water on each side was carefully 
screened from view, and a few stones, attached to it at 
intervals, sank it beneath the surface of the stream. 

Jack directed the work untiringly, encouraging the 
workers with praise. 

“Bravo!” he cried, when all was done. “Now we’ll 
have some chop, Lepoko.” 

“Plenty hungry, massa,” returned the man. “Men all 
want to know somefing, massa.” 

“Well, what is it?” 

“Dey say : Tokolobolo make us do plenty fings. What 
for? We lib for do anyfing for Lokolobolo; no fit to 
know what for.’ Dat am what dey say, sah.” 

Jack smiled. 

“Well, Lepoko, I’ll tell you in confidence, and I know 
it won’t go any further. We’re going to see an exhibi- 
tion of swimming.” 

“Me no like big talk like dat,” said Lepoko, looking 
puzzled. 

“Here’s little talk, then. Men no want to swim; we 
want to see them swim. Savoyf'' 

361 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


“Me know all ’bout dat, sah/’ cried Lepoko, delighted, 
and he went off to tell the men, Jack smiling at their 
satisfaction with an explanation that explained so little. 

The whole force had a meal, keeping almost perfect 
silence in obedience to an impressive order from Jack. 
They were concealed within the forest fringe. When 
the meal was finished, a dozen men with rifles were sent 
across to hide themselves amid the vegetation on the 
island, and all waited, with rifles ready. 

Presently the scout from down stream came running 
up with the news that the leading canoes of the flotilla 
were approaching a bend in the river half a mile below 
the ait. The paddlers, who had apparently had a meal and 
a rest, were sending the canoes along at a good rate. 
Jack bade twelve of his men grasp the rope of creepers, 
and stand ready to pull when he gave the word. There 
was dead silence among the troops. They heard the 
enemy drawing near ; the songs of the paddlers, the chat- 
ter of the fighting men, occasionally a yell as the chicotte 
fell with stinging force upon a paddler’s back. Jack 
watched from his coign of vantage in the bush. There 
were the two war canoes as Makoko had described them ; 
in the second of them was a white officer. They passed 
the ait. Then came the store canoes, one after another, 
keeping about the same distance apart. Jack forgot to 
count them, for he was beyond measure delighted to see 
in one of them the shield of the machine gun. “What 
luck ! What tremendous luck !” he thought. “Where the 
shield is, the gun is sure to be.” The last of the store 
canoes passed. Then, at a little longer interval than sep- 
arated the store canoes, came the first war canoe of the 
rear guard, the second about a boat’s length behind. 
Jack signed to his twelve men to be ready. Watching 
carefully the point at which the rope entered the water 
&nd the point on the opposite side where it reached the 
^62 


SINEWS OF WAR 


ait, he waited for the leading war canoe to approach the 
line. The nose of the vessel was within two or three 
yards of the rope when he gave his men the signal. 

With desperate energy the twelve sturdy negroes 
hauled on the stout rope. Jack could not have timed the 
movement more fortunately. As the rope became taut 
and rose to the surface it struck the bottom of the canoe 
about a fourth of its length from the bow. The united 
pull of the twelve lifted the fore part of the vessel bodily 
from the water ; the stern dipped under, and in a moment 
the canoe filled and its occupants were struggling in the 
water. 

At any other time such a feat would have provoked 
yells of triumph from the performers. It was a tribute 
to Jack’s discipline that his men made no other sound 
than a grunt of satisfaction, which must have been en- 
tirely smothered by the shouts of the men in the water. 
And at a word from Jack they rushed at full speed down 
stream with the rope, holding it a few inches above the 
gunwale level of the second canoe, the crew of which 
were frantically back-paddling to escape the mysterious 
fate of the other. But the paddlers had not got into their 
swing when the rope, stretched tight between the fasten- 
ing on the ait and the running men, overtook them. It 
caught them about the knees ; they were swept from the 
thwarts, and fell towards the opposite bank, and the sud- 
den weight on the starboard side turned the canoe com- 
pletely over. Not half a minute from the time when 
Jack gave the first sign, the whole of the rear guard was 
out of action. In mortal dread of crocodiles, the men 
swam desperately for the banks, some on one side, some 
on the other ; but as they landed, they fell an easy prey to 
Jack’s men and were promptly hauled into the forest and 
tied up. 

But while they were still in the water the news of the 
363 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


disaster had been communicated with marvelous rapid- 
ity from canoe to canoe, and reached the head of the 
flotilla and the white officer. Standing up in his canoe 
and lifting his field-glass, he could just see, over the inter- 
vening vessels, a capsized canoe, a number of men swim- 
ming in the river, and others moving on the bank. There 
was no sign of the cause of the disaster. The paddlers, 
indeed, were shouting ‘‘Lokolobolo ! Lokolobolo !” in ac- 
cents of terror; but the name appeared to convey noth- 
ing to the lieutenant, who was disposed to attribute the 
upset to a hippopotamus or a snag. 

Certainly it was causing a great deal of confusion in 
the flotilla, and some of the paddlers, the rear-guard be- 
ing removed, seemed inclined to turn their canoes and 
head down stream. It was very annoying. Shouting to 
the men in the first war canoe to paddle just enough to 
keep their vessel stationary against the stream, the lieu- 
tenant hurried to the scene of the accident. On the way 
the shouts of the paddlers became more coherent; what 
was this they were saying? Ilombekabasi ? Absurd! 
But it was as well to prepare for anything that might 
occur, so the officer ordered his men to be ready to fire 
when he gave the word. At present he saw nobody to 
fire at. 

His canoe was going rapidly on the current toward the 
ait, when a volley flashed from the undergrowth on the 
right bank, and he heard the shot strike the side of his 
vessel. The effect of the discharge at a range of only 
thirty yards was instantaneous. Jack had ordered his 
men to aim at or near the water-line ; not a man had been 
hit; but the paddlers waited for no more. With one 
accord they sprang overboard and swam for the nearest 
shore, that of the ait. One or two of the soldiers replied 
to the volley, aiming haphazard at the bank; the rest 
awaited the order of their officer, who, however, was 
364 


SINEWS OF WAR 


either dazed with the unexpected attack or unwilling to 
waste ammunition by aimless firing into the bush. The 
boat meanwhile was drifting down the stream. A sec- 
ond volley bored another score of tiny holes in the thin 
side. The occupants were without paddlers or paddles; 
they had no means of beaching the vessel; and Jack, 
watching her progress, felt that it was only a question 
of minutes before, riddled like a sieve, she would have 
shipped enough water to sink her. Then the occupants, 
officer and men, would share the fate of their comrades. 
He sent Makoko with twenty rifles and twice as many 
spearmen to the nearest point where the hapless party 
might be expected to land ; and at the same time he des- 
patched a band of the same size up river to deal with 
the remaining war canoe. 

In a few minutes the lieutenant and his men struggled, 
one after another, up the bank. Those who retained 
their weapons were unable to use them, for they were 
dripping wet. Jack’s men dealt with them as with the 
others, leaving the white officer, however, unbound. Him 
they led to Jack, who commiserated the crestfallen man 
on his unfortunate plight, and promised him excellent 
tieatment if he made no attempt to escape. 

For some time Jack’s party had made no further ef- 
fort to conceal themselves. The store canoes had been 
moving aimlessly about the river, the paddlers not know- 
ing whether to go ahead or to retreat. At Jack’s bid- 
ding Lepoko now ordered them to beach their vessels, 
promising that Lokolobolo would protect them and, if 
they pleased, would take them into his service. They 
obeyed with alacrity, and soon the whole of the stores 
and the machine gun were in Jack’s possession. He 
wondered why the latter had not been taken up the river 
with the main body, and, questioning the officer, learned 
that in the haste and confusion one of the parts of the 

36s 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


gun could not be found, and but for the delay in search- 
ing for it he himself would have arrived an hour or more 
earlier. 

The capture of the convoy had been effected so quick- 
ly that Jack felt there might still be time by a forced 
march to reach the fort before the arrival of the enemy’s 
main column. Hastily selecting from the stores such 
food and other articles as he was in urgent need of, and 
taking care to bring with him the machine gun, he made 
instant preparations to return. He placed Makoko in 
charge of the flotilla, with a body of thirty riflemen and 
eighty spearmen, ordering him to drop down the river 
half a day’s paddling and await further instructions. He 
arranged for a chain of messengers to keep up com- 
munication between Makoko and himself ; then he set out 
with the bulk of his force for Ilombekabasi, sending a 
scout to order the men who had gone up river to join him 
across country as soon as they had captured the only re- 
maining canoe. 


366 


CHAPTER XXXI 


SUMMONS AND SURRENDER 

Two days later, on a strip of open ground half-way be- 
tween Ilombekabasi and Elbel’s ruined camp, a group of 
six negroes was assembled. Three of them were in the 
uniform of the State troops ; the other three were Lepoko, 
Imbono and Mboyo. All were unarmed. In the midst 
of the group were two rough chairs such as were used 
by native chiefs. The southern wall of Ilombekabasi 
was thronged with men, women and children eagerly 
surveying the scene. Lower down the hill the State 
troops, in a rude encampment hastily constructed on the 
previous day, were drawn up in orderly ranks, and gazed 
north with equal intentness. 

All at once a great cry of ‘‘Lokolobolo !” rent the air, 
and floated down the hill from the stockade to the camp. 
No answering shout met it. But an officer in white left 
the camp and walked slowly up the slope. At the same 
time a tall figure in tattered garments of European cut 
limped out of the fort, and moved downwards. The 
group of negroes fell apart as the white men arrived. 
The latter touched their helmets in military salute. The 
younger of the two smilingly motioned to the elder to 
seat himself on one of the chairs; he himself took the 
other. They sat facing each other, and the negroes moved 
a few paces back on each side. 

The two men formed a strange contrast ; the one, a tall, 
slim young fellow, not yet nineteen, his bronzed face 
clean-shaven, showing firm, well-cut lips and an obsti- 
367 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


nate kind of chin, his nose prominent, his brown eyes 
large and searching, his hair, black as night and some- 
what unruly, not a handsome face, but a strong one, 
worth looking at twice and not easily forgotten. The 
other, nearly as tall, but much broader and more stiffly 
built; some ten years older; lips and chin concealed by 
thick brown mustache and beard, blue irritable eyes 
blinking through big spectacles under fierce and shaggy 
eyebrows. 

“Instead of replying to your summons to surrender. 
Monsieur Jennaert,’’ said Jack slowly in his best French, 
“I thought it better to meet you, so that we might clearly 
understand each other. I am obliged to you for so 
readily agreeing to my proposal.^’ 

The Belgian bowed. 

“Yours, Monsieur, is the third or fourth summons of 
the same kind. Monsieur Elbel summoned us — ” 

“Where is Monsieur Elbel, Monsieur?” 

“Monsieur Elbel, Monsieur, is dead.” 

Lieutenant Jennaert started. 

“Dead, Monsieur?” 

“Yes ; he was pursued into the forest by a man whose 
son he had thrashed, whose relatives his men had maimed 
and butchered, whose village he had burned. The man 
killed him. Well, as I was about to say. Monsieur Elbel 
summoned us more than once. At first he was much 
stronger than we were, both in arms and men. But 
when he began to back his summons by force of arms 
he failed— more than once. As you know, four days 
ago we captured his camp for the second time and dis- 
persed his troops, largely with the aid of rifles which had 
once been his.” 

“Yes, I know that,” said Lieutenant Jennaert, some- 
what impatiently. “But Monsieur Elbel was not a trained 
soldier, and his men were only forest guards. I did not 
368 


SUMMONS AND SURRENDER 


come to hear of your exploits, Monsieur, but to receive 
your surrender. I am a soldier ; my men are State troops ; 
the case is different.’' 

‘‘Quite so. Monsieur. I appreciate the difference be- 
tween his men and yours. But you will pardon my point- 
ing out that you are in a far more critical position than 
Monsieur Elbel before his camp was stormed.” 

“You think so. Monsieur?” said the officer with an 
amused smile. “Would it be indiscreet to ask your rea- 
sons ?” 

“Not at all. I wish to be entirely frank. It is to 
the interest of us both.” 

“Assuredly, Monsieur.” 

Lieutenant Jennaert’s smile was now quite indulgent. 
He was at first inclined to be peremptory with this young 
man, who appeared to presume on the victories he had 
obtained over a Company’s official, and a captain taken 
at a disadvantage, and never particularly competent in 
his subordinate’s opinion. But the young fellow was 
certainly very polite ; why not humor him by letting him 
calk? So Jennaert smiled again. The other continued: 

“Well, Monsieur, what is the position? Take mine 
first. You see before you a fortified camp, difficult of 
approach, as Monsieur Elbel could have told you, and 
as you can judge for yourself; well-provisioned, and 
with a good water supply within the walls; garrisoned 
by four hundred or more well-armed men — all now pro- 
vided with Albinis or Mausers, and a machine gun.” 

The officer started. 

“A machine gun?” 

“Yes, a machine gun.” 

“Monsieur Elbel made no mention of a machine gun.” 

“No, it is a new acquisition. But if you would like 
to assure yourself on the point, I can convince you.” 

The officer hesitated. Jack turned to Lepoko. 

369 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


*‘Run up and tell Mr. Barney to show the big gun on 
the blockhouse.” 

Lepoko ran away. 

'Tt is very hot, Monsieur,” said Jack pleasantly. “The 
rains, I am told by my friends the chiefs here, are long 
overdue. I am afraid you would have found your jour- 
ney rather more difficult if it had been a little later, with 
the river in flood. Ah ! there it is !” 

A number of men had hoisted the gun on to the edge 
of the parapet, in full view of the group below. 

“You see. Monsieur, we are well provided. A machine 
gun, you will admit, is even more useful within walls 
than without. Now as to your position. You have under 
your command some three hundred men, trained — more 
or less. Whether as a military force they are better than 
our men can only be decided if, unfortunately, you de- 
termine to put the matter to the test. But consider your 
risks. Two days ago we captured your stores.” The 
officer jumped. “Your rear guard is in our hands, and 
that was your machine gun.” The officer stared. “You 
are at least three weeks from your base, with perhaps 
two days’ provisions in hand, no reserve of ammunition, 
and, as I said, the rains overdue. Yonder country during 
the rains is a swamp.” 

Lieutenant Jennaert turned pale. His messenger sent 
back to hurry on the dilatory convoy had strangely failed 
to return. But recovering himself, with a feeble attempt 
to smile, he said: 

“You are joking. Monsieur. You permit yourself a 
ruse. Ah! ah! I am not to be entrapped in that way.” 

“Pardon me. Monsieur. You shall have the fullest 
assurance as to the truth of what I am saying. Lepoko, 
ask Mr. Barney to send out the white officer.” 

The Belgian was now looking very uncomfortable. 
This was a strange turning of the tables; his summons 
370 


SUMMONS AND SURRENDER 


to surrender had been completely forgotten. Jack had 
no need to kill time by keeping up the conversation, for in 
a minute or two the lieutenant captured in the river left 
the fort under an armed guard and walked quickly down. 

“Beuzemaker exclaimed Lieutenant Jennaert under 
his breath. 

“Yes, Monsieur — Monsieur Beuzemaker.” 

Lieutenant Beuzemaker smiled ruefully as he joined 
the group. He gave a rapid narrative of the capture of 
the convoy. 

“It only remains, therefore,” said Jack, “for you to 
decide upon your course. Monsieur. May I make you 
a proposal? You shall surrender your arms and ammu- 
nition, except a dozen rifles. I will supply you with 
canoes to take your men down the river, and provisions 
for a fortnight. Within ten days you should enter a 
district where more food can be obtained. As you know, 
the country hereabouts has been made almost a desert by 
your people.” 

But this was too much. Was it he. Lieutenant Jen- 
naert, who was being called upon to surrender ? He rose 
in a fury. 

“Never! The thing is absurd! Monsieur, I take my 
leave. Beuzemaker — ” 

He stopped, biting his lips. 

“Monsieur Beuzemaker is my prisoner,” said Jack 
suavely, rising. “He will accompany me back to my 
camp. Of course, if you accept our terms, we shall re- 
lease all the prisoners.” 

The Belgian turned away in a rage. The meeting 
broke up; the two parties went their several ways. Jack, 
as he walked back to the fort, hoped that on thinking the 
matter over, the officer would see the wisdom of com- 
pliance. The alternative was starvation. He must see 
that it would be no easy matter to storm the fort, and 

371 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


that Jack had only to sit tight for a few days. The State 
troops, none too well disciplined at the best, would soon 
be clamoring for food. With a starving soldiery, an 
active, well-fed enemy on his rear, and a swarm of 
scouts cutting otf his foraging parties, he must see the 
impossibility of making his way back through several 
hundred miles of country inhabited by tribes only, wait- 
ing an opportunity to rise against their oppressors. So 
that when Barney met him as he reentered the fort, and 
asked eagerly, “Well, sorr, and did the patient swallow 
the pill ?” he smiled as he shook his head, saying : 

“Not yet, Barney. But he'll swallow it, bitter as it is.” 

“Or his men will swallow him, bedad !” 

And a few hours later a negro soldier marched up the 
hill with a white flag. Lieutenant Jennaert’s note was 
very brief. 

“Monsieur: — I ’agree vos conditions. 

“Jennaert, 

“Lieutenant dans Varmee de I’Etat du Congo,” 


372 


CHAPTER XXXII 


THE DAWN OF FREEDOM 

It was a fortnight later. Ilombekabasi was the scene 
of great activity. Gangs of negroes were busy carrying 
or hauling stones of all shapes and sizes from the dry 
bed of the stream that once flowed past the fort; other 
gangs were building a wall above the original northern 
wall of the fort, a few yards beyond the spring whence; 
the water supply was derived. On the cultivable land 
on the west and east men and women were digging, 
plowing, planting, hoeing, for in some parts seed sown 
only two weeks before was already sprouting. Barney 
O’Dowd was superintending the mason work, sporting a 
red fez taken from one of the slain Askari and dry-cleaned 
by a process of his own. In his mouth was his old short 
clay pipe, in which, after long deprivation, he was smok- 
ing a mixture made by himself from the leaves of strange 
plants. It was not shag, he said, but it made a “betther 
smoke than Cavendish, and sure ’twould give a man a 
little comfort till the rale thing could be grown.’^ The 
agriculturists were directed by Imbono. An air of cheer- 
ful industry pervaded the whole settlement. 

When the State troops under Lieutenant Jennaert had 
disappeared. Jack determined, after a breathing-space, 
to enlarge the fort and to plant new crops. The en- 
largement was prompted not merely by the wish to have 
the source of the water supply within the wall, but by 
the expectation that the defeat of Bula Matadi would 
cause an increase of the population. And, in fact, within 
373 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


a week of Jennaert’s departure, natives from distant 
parts, to which the news had penetrated, came flocking 
into Ilombekabasi to join the community which looked 
up to Lokolobolo as its invincible chief. 

Looking round upon the cheerful faces of the people, 
observing their willingness to work, and eagerness to 
please, watching the happy family life they led when 
unmolested and free from anxieties. Jack felt that his 
toil had not been in vain, and was immeasurably glad 
that Providence had laid this charge upon him. If only 
his uncle had lived to see this day ! 

Jack found that his feelings were shared by Mr. Ar- 
lington and his friend, the missionary. They had awaited 
the issue of his hazardous enterprise with more anxiety 
than they cared to admit, and while they hailed his suc- 
cess with cordial congratulations, they were scarcely less 
troubled about the future. The Congo State could not 
permit this leaven of revolt to spread; it would certainly 
organize an expeditionary force of sufficient strength to 
crush Jack and his people; and then would not their lot 
be infinitely worse than it had ever been? 

*'Even so we shall have had some months of happiness, 
and set an example,” said Jack, talking things over with 
his friends the day before they left Ilombekabasi. “But 
I hope for better things. We may have the rains upon 
us any day now; the country for miles around will be 
one vast morass; we shall be safe in our castle for six 
months, perhaps. And what may not be done in six 
months, Mr. Arlington?” 

“You mean?” 

“I mean if you and Mr. Dathan will hurry home and 
tell what you have seen and know. Mr. Arlington, you 
are no longer a Member of Parliament, I believe ?” 

“No. The House of Commons is no longer what it 
was.” 


374 


THE DAWN OF FREEDOM 


“Surely it is what men like you choose to make it, sir. 
If you would go home, stand at a by-election, and re- 
turn to the House, what an immense influence a man 
with your record might wield! Do you know what I 
would do in your place, sir ? You do not mind my speak- 
ing out?’' 

“Not a bit. I am deeply interested." 

“Well, sir, I would badger the Foreign Secretary; I 
would move the country until England moved the world." 

“Go on the stump like Gladstone?" 

“Why not, sir? Isn’t the cause of the negroes every 
bit as good as the cause of the Bulgarians or Macedonians 
or Armenians? Nay, ten times better, because they’re 
more helpless and suffer under a Christian king! And 
you would succeed, sir." 

“I haven’t Gladstone’s power of moving the masses." 

“What does that matter? The facts don’t need any 
eloquence to back them, sir. I don’t mean that you are 
not eloquent," he added with a smile. “I haven’t heard 
you speak, but I have read your speeches ; and if you tell 
what you have seen here, the country must listen, and 
something will surely be done. Why, if you go to my 
old school and speak to the fellows in the school-house. 
I’ll back there’s not a boy there but will want to rush 
off here by the first train, to lend a hand." 

“Upon my word, Mr. Challoner, I think you’d better 
come back with us and do the stumping yourself." 

“No, no," said Jack, his face flushing. “I can not 
leave these people. My place is here, and here I’ll stick 
until I’m driven out, or until you’ve brought Leopold to 
book." 

“Well, I’ll do what I can. I promise you that. Per- 
haps I’ve plowed the lonely furrow long enough. What 
do you say, Dathan? Shall we join hands in this? We 
rowed in the same boat at Trinity; we kept the head of 

375 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


the river. This boat’s rather low down now, but d’you 
think we could make a bump?” 

“We’ll make a shot for it, George. And please God, 
we, like Bishop Latimer, will light such a candle in Eng- 
land as by the grace of God shall not be put out until 
this wrong is crushed and right is done.” 

Jack felt more than satisfied. If his countrymen had 
not grown strangely deaf, surely they would listen to 
these two — ay, and do more than listen. 

“You leave to-morrow?” he said. 

“Yes, my leg won’t carry me yet, but with a canoe 
and a litter I can make shift to get along until we reach 
the Nyanza. Can you lend me an interpreter?” 

“Lepoko is a good fellow. I think I can spare him 
now. We’ll see what he says.” 

He sent for the man, and explained that he wished 
him to accompany the travelers during the first part 
of their journey. 

“Me plenty sorry, massa,” said Lepoko. “Me no fit 
to go. What for? Me comfy heah! No lib for go talk, 
talk for nudder massa. What for? Nando go to Boma 
with old massa, what den? He come back, get cotched, 
chicotte, feel plenty bad. No, no, sah; Lepoko know all 
’bout dat. Lepoko go long long, do anyfing for massa; 
he lib for lub Lokolobolo, no nudder massa dis time. 
Why, me hab got wife in Ilombekabasi ; what for leabe 
wife? No good at all ; dat what Bula Matadi make black 
man do, leabe wife, leabe pickin, go ’way all ’lone, ’lone. 
Make black man sick inside, sah; feel awful bad. No, 
no, I tell massa. Nando go. He know Inglesa plenty 
fine; he no hab got wife; he die of shame ’cos he leabe 
Samba in fire hut ; no one lub Nando now. Oh, yes, sah ! 
Nando go; me tell him one time.” 

After this breathless speech, Lepoko ran off to find his 
brother. Nando at first was by no means disposed to 
376 


THE DAWN OF FREEDOM 


leave the fort on so long and hazardous a journey. But 
at last he was persuaded, though on bidding Jack good- 
by, he said earnestly: 

“Me nebber lib for hab nudder brudder what talk 
Inglesa; oh, no!’' 

One afternoon a few days after this, one of the lookouts 
on the southeastern blockhouse reported that he saw a 
crowd of people emerging from the forest a couple of 
miles away. Hurrying to the spot, Jack took a long 
look through his field-glass and made out that the ap- 
proaching throng was composed of natives, men, women 
and children, the women being laden with babes and 
bundles. When the crowd came within earshot of the 
fort, a negro stepped forward, and, lifting his hands to 
his mouth, vociferated : 

“Yo! Yo!” 

“Answer him, Lianza,” said Jack to the man of the 
brazen throat. 

“I am here,” shouted Lianza. 

“It is Ilombekabasi ?” 

“It is Ilombekabasi.” 

“And Lokolobolo?” 

“And Lokolobolo.” 

“I am Lokua. My chief is Makole. We come from 
Limpoko to see Lokolobolo.” 

“Lokolobolo says that Makole and Lokua may enter, 
but no more.” 

“I am going.” 

“Are you going?” 

“ 0 1 ” 

The negro returned to his company, who were now 
squatting in a series of circles just above the site of 
Elbel’s ruined camp. He presently returned with a negro 
in chief’s array, a head taller than himself. 

The two negroes were admitted. Makole stood before 

m 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


Jack, a bundle of palm leaves in one hand. They ex- 
changed greetings. 

‘T am proud to see Lokolobolo,” said Makole. ‘T 
come from Limpoko. All my people have come with 
me, my four wives, my children, all my people. We 
have heard of the great things done by Lokolobolo in 
Ilombekabasi, and how he beat Elobela and Mutela and 
other servants of the Great White Chief who eats up 
the black men. We come to ask Lokolobolo to let us 
be his people. I am Makole, the chief; I have four 
wives and many children ; but I say I will be Lokolobolo’s 
servant; all my people shall be his servants, if he will 
take us into Ilombekabasi and let us live in peace.'* 

“Why do you wish to leave Limpoko?” asked Jack. 

“We do not wish to leave Limpoko. But what can 
we do, O Lokolobolo ? The rubber is done ; we have no 
more of it; day by day the servants of the Great White 
Chief beat us and kill us because we can not fill our 
baskets; Limpoko will soon be a wilderness. We come 
before we are all gone, and we beg Lokolobolo to hear 
our entreaty.” 

“Shall we admit Makole?” asked Jack of Imbono, who 
had come to his side. 

“Makole is a tall man, a great chief. We will be 
blood brothers and live together.” 

“You may bring your people in, Makole. But I warn 
you, it may not be to live in peace. We have offended 
Bula Matadi; Bula Matadi will come with a great host 
to destroy us. All who live in Ilombekabasi must not 
look for ease and peace, but for work and war. Your 
people must share with the rest; they must build their 
own huts, till the fields, repair the walls, learn to scout 
and to fight in our way. It is not peace, Makole.” 

“I praise Lokolobolo! I trust Lokolobolo! I will do 
all he says, and my people shall learn all that he teaches,” 


THE DAWN OF FREEDOM 


cried the chief, slapping his thighs. Then, unwrapping 
the bundle of palm leaves, he displayed a shriveled hand, 
and said: 

“This is my gift to Lokolobolo.” 

“What is this, Makole?” asked Jack, shuddering. 

“It is the hand of Boloko, who whipped us and killed 
us, who can say how many? We met him as we came 
through the forest, and my young men killed him, and 
I bring his hand to Lokolobolo, to show that he is dead, 
and will trouble us no more.’’ 

“But we do not deal with our enemies thus,” said Jack. 

The chief looked surprised. 

“It is the way of the servants of the Great White 
Chief,” he said. “They kill us, and cut off our hands, 
and take them to their chiefs, and the chiefs are pleased 
and pay brass rods for them. I thought Lokolobolo 
would be pleased.” 

“Lokolobolo is Inglesa,” said Lepoko. “It is only Bula 
Matadi that pays for the hands of black men. Give 
it to Mboyo ; he is Boloko’s brother. Boloko hated Mbo- 
yo, he hated Samba ; Mboyo will be pleased.” 

“Bury it at once out of sight,” said Jack. “Bring your 
people in, Makole. Lepoko, take him to Mr. Barney ; he 
will show him where to build his huts.” 

All Ilombekabasi flocked to the gates to see the en- 
trance of this new contingent. They came in laughing, 
singing, dancing, the mothers eagerly asking where was 
Lokolobolo, that they might point him out to their little 
ones. But Lokolobolo was not to be seen. 


379 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


CONCLUSION 

Jack had turned sadly from the sight of this joyous 
entry, and made his way towards the largest of the 
huts — the hut built for Mr. Martindale. There Samba 
lay; had lain since Barney, with a woman’s tenderness, 
had carried him from Elbel’s camp to the beloved Ilombe- 
kabasi, which he had thought never to see again. Little 
indeed he saw of the fort and of what was passing there 
as he lay day by day on his simple bamboo bed; for 
though his wounds slowly healed, not all the loving care 
lavished upon him by his parents and by Barney, who 
spent every spare hour at his bedside— not the constant 
companionship of Pat himself — ^brought back strength 
to his slowly-wasting form. 

Still, he was always cheerful. The ready smile lit up 
his face as Lokolobolo appeared in the narrow doorway. 
Barney rose as Jack entered and made room for him at 
the head of the bed. 

‘‘How are you now. Samba?” asked Jack, taking his 
hand. 

“Better, master, better,” answered the boy, his voice 
scarcely audible. 

“That’s right. Getting a little appetite, eh ? Must eat, 
you know, if you’re to grow strong.” 

“See my kwanga,” said the mother, coming forward. 
“He eats no more than a bird.” 

“It is nice, mother; I will eat more by and by. I am 
so tired now.” 


380 


CONCLUSION 


'‘Poor little fellow! You are in no pain?” 

“No, master, no pain ; only tired.” 

“Cheer up! You will feel better in the morning.” 

He pressed the boy’s hand and turned to leave with 
Barney. At the door Mboyo overtook him. 

“He will not go yet to the Great Spirit, O Lokolobolo ?” 
he whispered anxiously. 

“We can not tell, Mboyo. All we can do is to tend 
him well. Hope for the best.” 

“Poor bhoy !” said Barney as they went away. “ ’Tis 
mighty little betther he is, sorr, I’m fearing. ’Twould 
tax the strength in a horse to get over it widout docthors 
an’ all.” 

As they walked across the camp, here a man, there a 
woman, paused in their work to ask Lokolobolo how Sam- 
ba was. Children came up— Lofinda, for whom Samba 
had shaped a tiny gun; Lokilo, proud of his little fish- 
ing-rod, Samba’s gift; Isangila, wearing a necklace of 
dried maize he had made for her — and asked shyly when 
Samba would come out and play with them again. Some 
brought offerings of food specially prepared — a delicate 
fish and rare fruits, the choicest spoil of forest and stream 
for miles around. Everybody loved the boy; and Jack 
loved him with a particular affection. Over and above his 
winning ways Samba stood for so much to Jack, who, in 
thoughtful moods, seemed to see him as the spirit of the 
negro race, the embodiment of all that was best in the 
black man, the representative of millions of his kind, 
helpless pawns in a royal game of beggar my neighbor. 
It was Samba whose woeful plight had first brought 
home to his heart the terrible realities of the rubber 
slavery ; it was Samba who had been the means of founds 
ing Ilombekabasi ; to him was due the torch of freedom, 
lit at last in this stricken land. In his heart of hearts. 
Jack dared to hope that this torch would never be extin- 
381 


FIGHTING ON THE CONGO 


guished. Surely the conscience of Christendom was 
awakening ! Pray God the awakening came not too late ! 

A great silence came upon Ilombekabasi. To a stranger 
beyond the walls, that place might have seemed deserted, 
so still it was, with none of the cheerful bustle that 
marks the beginning of a new day. Men and women 
were gathered in little knots; they talked in whispers; 
some were sobbing ; the eyes of most were dim with tears. 
Even the children were subdued and quiet; they forgot 
their play, staring at their elders with puzzled, solemn 
eyes. Why was the world so sad to-day? Was it because 
Samba was going away? Surely he would come back 
to them ; he had come back before. 

Samba was leaving Ilombekabasi. 

Four persons stood by the little bamboo bed. At the 
foot a dog crouched, whimpering. Father and mother 
bent in silent agony over their son; Lukela, the fountain 
of her tears dried through long weeping, hovering above 
her boy as though by sdieer power of love to guard him 
from the dread visitant already at the threshold ; Mboyo 
rocking himself to and fro in the abandonment of sor- 
row ; and the two white men bowed their heads in silent 
sympathy and grief. They knew that the end was near. 

Jack felt a great lump in his throat as he gazed at the 
still form, lying with outstretched arms. Poor little 
fellow! Was this the end of the bright young life, so 
full of promise? He thought of the days of health, 
when the boy, with happy face, went hither and thither, 
eager to do some service for his beloved master, no mat- 
ter how hard or how perilous. He thought of the dangers 
Samba had faced for his parents’ sake, and the brightness 
he had brought into their lives and the lives of hundreds 
of his people. He thought with agony of the terrible 
scene when Samba, rather than say a word to the undoing 
of those he loved had endured the tortures inflicted by 
3S2 


CONCLUSION 


the inhuman agent of a detestable tyranny. And now 
the end was at hand! The blithe spirit was departing, 
the poor body done to death by the greed of a Christian 
king, ''Botofe bo le iwa! Rubber is death 1” The words 
rang in Jack’s ears; would they were the knell of this 
despotism, this monstrous “system” that bought wealth 
with the price of blood 1 

Samba moved his hand, and turned his eyes, and mur- 
mured “Pat!” The watchers barely caught the word, 
but the dog sprang up and nestled his head on the boy’s 
shoulder. Samba murmured his pleasure ; a happy smile 
lit up the brave young eyes; and then the light faded 
and went out. Samba had left Ilombekabasi. 

They buried him next day in the forest he knew and 
loved so well, with the ceremonies of his people, and as 
befitted the son of a chief. 

All the people of Ilombekabasi — men, women and little 
children — followed him to the grave. They laid by his 
side the few possessions of the boy — his rifle, his knife, 
his tin, his wooden spear. And some of his comrades, 
Makoko and Lingombela and Lianza and Lepoko, fired 
a salute over him and left him there among the trees. 

That night, sitting in Jack’s hut, Barney talked of the 
past and the future. 

“Poor ould master came here for gold, sorr. All the 
gold in all the world is not worth poor little Samba’s 
life. And whin the master looks down out uv Paradise 
and sees the people here, I know what he’ll say, just as if 
I heard ’im, he’ll say : T was niver a philanthropy, niver 
did hould wid that sort uv thing. But I’m rale glad that 
bhoy uv mine wirit out wid me in time to make a few 
poor, black people happy. Poor craturs I God bless ’m !’ 
Sure, sorr, black people have got their feelings — the same 
as dogs.” 


THE END 


LRd'Jl’22 


« 






